


The Little Inventor of Allutanque (On Hold Until Further Notice)

by XomBio



Series: The S!Isekai Series [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Also I'm going for realisim in some places, Animal Ears, Beast People, Cum Inflation, Dark Elves, Demons, Dirty Talk, Elves, F/M, Fantasy Races, Fauns & Satyrs, Friends OCs will be making appearances in the story, Gen, Goblins, Harems, Harpies, High Fantasy, Huge balls, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Isekai, Large Breasts, Large Cock, Like Caifro is gonna get all the bimbos and himbos and just gonna lay pipe, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Magic, Magical Artifacts, Magical Realism, Netorare, Orcs, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Porn With Plot, Potions, Pregnancy, Realistic, Sexual Assault, Story Arc, huge cock, ntr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2020-10-04 05:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20466107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XomBio/pseuds/XomBio
Summary: Sometimes life can hit you in just the right way to derail your life completely. At least, that's what happened to me. I was ready to accept my time was over, until someone or rather, something sent me to this place where magic is real and the fantastic is everyday. However, there's a catch to this whole thing. There always is in deals too good to be true.





	1. A Turn In Luck

It was time. My fight, for what it’s worth, was over.

The rumble of my Car’s V8 was an avalanche in the empty car park or maybe like rolling thunder. Or something like that, I was never too good with poetry.

It’s idle was loud, something about the newer engine and old muffler, I’d never really gotten the time to fix. At any other time, I’d probably fluff that thought with a few cusses, a ‘too’ right before ‘loud’ and follow it up with a swift but not hard kick to a wheel.

But here I am instead, poetically looking down at my hands cradling my granddaddy’s old Colt as if I can’t quite believe it’s my fingers fiddling at the leaf and vine engraving along the barrel. In all honesty, it’s hard to believe that the thin trembling wispy twigs are mine. Cancer stripped most of my strength from me, the chemo took the muscle, and the stress of the trial stole away what little fat I had left to spare.

The nurse, bless her heart, did a poor job hiding the grimace on my last day in the hospital. Dr. Jacobs scribbled out a prescription for some painkillers, his eyes so pitying I could hear the ‘I am sorry’ begging to come out.

Just thinking about that long walk out the hospital is enough to make my legs start throbbing again...or maybe they’re actually throbbing, I can’t tell and I don’t bother feeling. My sense of touch has been off for awhile now and the jeans I got on won’t help.

I reach over to the passenger seat and pick a pill from the scattered pile. I dumped them. Getting the little bastards out the bottle was hard enough the first time round. Just saving myself some effort and time now.

Popping the thing and leaning back to swallow, I hardly taste what I know should be chemical bitterness. If I wasn’t so messed up, I’d probably gag but it goes down smooth.

Certainly ain’t the stuff I got when I first checked in. These painkillers are more like ‘pain-pushers’, making the aches and stings less noticeable by shoving it in some corner of my mind.

It’s probably the only reason I’ll be able to pull the trigger. Well, that and I’ve already fired a gun today.

More than once, in fact. Still don’t know how I got away in that crowd.

I was fully expecting to get tackled to the ground before I’d even drawn. Hell, my hands were so shaky, I want to wonder how I managed to aim but looking back on it, that fat fuck was so wide that if I’d missed, I would’ve died from the embarrassment right there and saved the cops the trouble.

Guess all those years of hunting just kinda...take over even after you haven’t done it in awhile.

I pull back the hammer of the colt and the click is like the chuckle of an old friend, familiar and long missed. I think about writing a note before I remember that I don’t have any paper or pencil besides, any family who might’ve wanted to know the ‘why’ are all gone. I didn’t have any parents worth a damn and my wife…god, my Lillian is dead.

It still feels surreal three months after the funeral. Like a bad dream that’s gonna end any second.

That fat fucking bastard and those around him took her long before any of us met in the courtroom. They killed both of us and several others when they dumped their poison near the city’s drinking water, wiping their hands of it like some idiot cartoon character hiding a mess under the rug. Only there wasn’t a punchline to laugh at and the killer under the rug wasn't an obvious shape.

"I've been waiting a long time for you, Mister Rockford. Well, not you but someone like you."

I damn near jump out my skin at the feminine voice next to me and fumble the gun which falls to the floor between my legs. I spin around to see a pretty woman in the passenger seat with a wide smile, her face framed by a shoulder-length blonde bob cut, eyes gleaming over the thick rims of a pair of glasses. Dressed all in a black number that cut just shy of mid-thigh, her hands are folded together in her lap and legs crossed as if she’d been here this whole time and was waiting on me to finish up a conversation.

Which I knew wasn’t possible. I had the doors locked, dammit and I would’ve heard her open the door at least. I had cancer, not selective hearing.

I glance at my door. Yep, still locked. So how…?

“W-Who-” I wheeze, hating how fragile my voice sounds and I have to take a breath to brace myself to start over. “Who are you?”

“We’ve met but I guess I should tell you. You’ve earned it, after all.” Her smile changes and she goes from looking like a lottery winner to someone about to share a secret, leaning in closer to me even as I reflexively start leaning back. “I’m Takah Crollaom, a witch.”

I blink, waiting for her to laugh in my face and say ‘Gotcha sucker’ but she simply sits back, waiting for me to process.

I do for a moment before deciding that I must’ve already blown my brains out because there isn’t a snowball’s chance in Hell that this just happened. A beautiful woman shows up in the passenger seat of my car and says she’s a witch? Yeah, I must’ve died and gone to heaven...or wouldn’t it be hell? I did kill myself and that’s looked down on by the big man, unless I somehow died before I did the deed but wouldn’t that-

“You don’t look convinced.” She says cutting off my thought, a frown creasing her brow. “Then allow me to prove it.”

What happens next tells me for sure that I’m dead. Her hair starts growing, going from ear length to long enough to drape over her shoulders then it changes color as if being touched up by Photoshop, turning black and curly. Her dress morphs, the black fabric turning gray and lengthening until her crossed legs are wearing pants and her chest is covered by a suit jacket and red tie. Finally, her skin darkens, first looking like she had gotten a deep tan in a matter of seconds before continuing it’s shading until…

Then it hits me like a bat to the skull. I have seen her before! That bastard CEO’s secretary who was by his side every single day, almost like they were fused at the hip. Never saw him without her from the day she'd introduced herself, one face among a vanguard of lawyers. I find myself pointing before I can stop, fingers trembling from something over than weakness. “You-You’re...”

Takah nods and in the span of a blink she’s back to 'herself', black dress and all. “Yep, I was his servant, playing the role of secretary.” Her features harden as she gazes out the window and through the slight reflection in the glass, I can feel her anger blow through me like a winter wind. It's sharp and cold and there are hints of something dreadful behind her eyes. “ Apparently, even in these modern days there are some who still know the old ways. The CEO of JaxChem was just one such person." She flexes the hand she's not leaning against and cracks the knuckles like a bouncer preparing to throw down. Only as I watch, the fingers are too long and they're bending the wrong way and each joint pops and crackles too deeply, sounding like breaking bones and crushed flesh.

"He got a contract out of me. Made me marry him and treated me like a footstool, can you believe that?” I can't. I'm starting to believe the CEO wasn't just an arrogant privileged fuckwit who destroyed the only family I had, he was insane enough to anger this witch...creature by forcing it to anything.

When she looks back at me, the smile returning and I take a breath I didn't know I was holding. “Until you took care of that arrogant tub of lard for me. Used my magic to make sure you got away, didn’t want to have this talk in a cell, you know? So for that, I’m gonna do something for you.”

She taps her chin in thought after saying that then shrugs her shoulders. “Well, kinda. I’ve gotta curse you too. Killing the family of a witch has to have repercussions, it’s why that slob forced me to marry him.”

“What?” I didn’t blurt it out because of what she told me, more like I was playing catch-up and that just moved to finish line about 500 yards in another direction.

She seems to take it as fear because “But don’t worry, I’ll try to make it as nice as possible. At least, as nice as the Witches Code allows.”

“So what do you want?”

I didn’t even need to think about it, dead or not. “My wife back. With my baby as well.”

She shook her head, looking sad. “Can’t do that. There are rules. Can't bring back the dead and can't kill. Otherwise, we wouldn't be having this conversation at all.”

I shove aside the not insignificant implication that the man who I plugged full of holes earlier tried to use magic to kill me. Its a surprisingly easy thing to get over since I've got a wish granting witch in my car. “That’s all I want.”

Her look turns contemplative and she looks me up and down as if seeing me for the first time. Soon she starts mumbling under hear breath, trying to work something out. I can barely make it out but ‘too deep’ and ‘month at most’ stand out. Before too long, she claps her hands and rubs them together. “Got it. I’ll read your mind and give you your deepest fantasies, how about that?”

Before I could say anything, her hands snap up and grip either side of my head and then...things got hazy, my vision blurring along the edges. The car began to tilt, listing like a ship caught in a strong wave. Soon it began to turn, a slow turn picked up into a spin, then a tumble.

“Wow, you were one kinky guy growing up. Cursing you kindly ain’t even going to be a struggle here.” Her words are screamed from miles away yet whispered into my ear so gently. So very, very sweetly she speaks with the love of a priestess, comforting a member of her dying flock. Its then I know I'm laid bare before her and she's not judging. “And...ooh, this is gonna be fun, too. Okay! Catch you on the other side.”

The snap of her finger makes the deep V8 sound paltry. A crack so deep and loud, I wonder if the windshield blew out. It crashes across my senses like a wave and hammers right into a deep core part of myself I never knew existed until something...beyond my understanding grabs it and yanks. Had I’d been standing, I would've been thrown off my feet.

That’s my last thought before the blur that had become my world, goes dark.

XXX

When my sense of...feeling? Self? When everything snaps back, it’s with the crowing of a rooster of all things. My eyes pop open, one at a time and I realize two things at once.

First, it’s almost morning. The orange-purple glow of morning is just starting to make it’s way through the windows.

Second, I’m not in my car anymore. I’m looking up at the rafters of a building I’ve never seen before, tucked under the sheets of the softest bed I’ve ever felt.

I must've spent the night here. Wherever 'here' is exactly.

Not recognizing my surroundings me on edge, nerves and fear keep me from moving anything more than my eyes as I look around. Seeing as I am a wanted killer in my last memory was being next to a _being_ – not a woman, no matter what she claimed – that had not only praised me for what I did but admitted to helping me get away after I fired the shots, I could have been anywhere.

Hell, she could be watching right now was just waiting for me to make the first move.  In defiance of my absolutely justified caution, natural body functions refuse to be put off. I clench my job to stifle a yawn but the instinctive stretching is already starting for my brain can catch up.

Confusion and shock work together and give the twins of fear and caution a hard boot out my head as what I feel registers.

Relief. No pain, just the sweet satisfaction of critics and not loosing.

It takes a moment to sink in but the burning and itching and just general throbbing of my body is gone. The chilly goosebumps on my skin covering consistent pulsing heat, a rhythm to a song with the lyrics 'Sick, Sick, Sick' screaming it's my brain is absent. Had grown so used to it being there, I feel momentarily hollow. But that's as long as it lasts, a moment. It’s like it had never been. I breathe in deep and it’s clear. My lungs don’t feel like reused balloons anymore and the tickling burn that would precede a hacking cough is just...not there.

I giggle and when I do, my joy at being cured is cut off at the knees by my voice. It’s young. Too young. And it’s not my voice either.

“Hello?” I test my words as I sit up and end up looking straight into a mirror across from me.

Looking back with a growing look of horror, dressed in a blue nightshirt and sitting up in a bed, is a blonde boy I have never seen before.

I raise my arm.

He raises his arm.

I grab at my hair and see a long blonde lock of hair pinched between my fingers.

“Holy shit.” I whisper and the refection’s lips match. I sit up a little straighter and feel something shift on the sheets. Managing to tear my eyes from...me I guess, I glance down at the weight and see a brown leather journal with the words ‘Read Me’ scribbled across the cover.

Well, this already seemed crazy enough but if I run across a box of cookies with the label ‘Eat Me’ on it then I really have died and gone to Hell.

The first page meets my eyes and somehow I can manage to make out the words in the dim light.

_WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF HONLEIA!!! And Happy Birthday too, I guess._

_Okay, I know you’re confused and all so I’ll make this simple._

_First off, you’re dead. Technically. Your body on Earth is still alive but there’s no one home, I guess you could say._

_I plucked you out and placed you here. Think of taking all the important data in a computer, uploading it into the cloud, and downloading it into a completely different computer in another country._

_You’re welcome._

_Second, I gave you your body so you don’t have to deal with the fiddly morals of taking over someone else’s mind. You are Caifro Xom, a Hollani citizen in the frontier town of Allutanque, 12 year old youngest sibling in the Xom family. While Caifro didn’t exist until a few seconds ago, lucky for you my magic and the ‘rules’ of reality are very accommodating to transplants. As far as they know, you’ve always been a part of the family. Plus this place has a sprinkling of anime tropes here and there._

_Third, I’ve given you some ‘gifts’ and whatnot. For example, this journal doubles as a hub. Think video game journal, inventory list, quest line tracker, all the necessity of having an adventure. Just open it up, think what you need, and it will show it. To any nosy busybodies, it will only look like a child’s journal and they’ll be compelled to leave it alone. You can even look up information on things from Earth like the world’s best encyclopedia. Just don’t expect internet. Oh, and it acts as a codex as well. Unlocking more background details on the things you’ve learned._

_Fourth, this is all based on what I plucked out of your mind so nothing you’re going to experience here will be something you didn’t want deep down which leads me to the next thing-_

_THE RULES!!!!_

_What? Did you think I would cure you, give you a new body, and all this and there wasn’t gonna be some restrictions? I still have to curse you for killing my ‘husband’ but you're paying a small price compared with what that asshole's going through, believe me._

_1\. Live your new life. Enjoy it! Not much of a rule, I know but I’ll be pissed if I did all this work and I find you being the local equivalent of a couch potato._

_2\. Take ‘care’ of yourself or there will be consequences._

_3\. You not allowed to tell anyone about who you were or where you’re from._

_4\. You’re not allow to tell anyone about the gifts I’ve given you_

_5\. Any attempt to do number 3 and/or 4 will (1)sound like complete gibberish to whoever you’re speaking to and (2) will be punished with an extra surprise per week._

_6\. Oh, BTW, you will be getting some surprises. The days they happen are completely random as well as the time of day. You will get a two minute warning beforehand.(trust me you can’t miss it.) When they do I suggest you find a private place to let it happen. Note: Not taking care of your needs will make the surprises ‘bigger.’_

_7\. Honliea is a fantasy world on the cusp of an industrial revolution. So it is possible for you to make certain inventions form Earth here. There are limits though. (Don’t expect Ar-15s in your new life’s lifetime) Also be careful with what you make here. Innovate too much and people might get curious about a child with all these inventions. This isn’t a threat, it’s just people being people._

_8\. Since you’re the protagonist, you’re gonna have antagonists. The ant-tag can be anyone of any age or gender. The ant-tags goal can be anything from bullying you to starting a war in another country you’ve never heard of. You won’t know who that antagonist is until you see them. There can be more than one ant-tag but both will either be working to the same goal or socially close so that you won’t have to do much searching._

_9\. Finally, you can just say screw it and deal with the ant-tag as such and I guarantee it will work. Just be sure you don’t do it publicly. People tend to talk about such._

_HAVE FUN!! I’LL SEE YA LATER!!! Tutorial on next page._

I have to read that more than five times before it really sinks in.

I’m dead.

I’m alive

I’m in another world.

I glance up into the mirror and take in the full healthy young face staring back at me. Totally opposite to the gaunt hollow cheeks and pale skin that had been the shell the cancer left me to scrape out my final days in.

I get up, pulling the sheets back to see my legs and wiggle my toes before I hop to my feet. I stumble a little, my perspective thrown off by the difference in height.

Once I’m sure of myself and that I’m planted, I get closer to the full-length mirror and the drawer to its left. Another thrill runs up my spine at the conspicuous absence of pain. Not even five minutes ago, I couldn’t manage a step without the sensation of bone grinding against bone in my joints.

I get a better look at myself, this new me, and it’s the most surreal thing. Looking at a mirror and seeing something completely different is something I’ve only seen in horror movies.

Forget the witch.

Forget the stranger bed and room.

Forget the fact I’m not in constant pain anymore.

Seeing this childish face smile at the same time I feel the pull of the muscles in my face is weird. My features are young, skin light peach and smooth instead of pale and sunken. I’ve got hair again. Tousled and mess from a night of sleep and so golden blonde it’s damn near neon yellow, it stands out like a beacon against my blue-and-white striped nightshirt that hangs off my body like a loose robe.

A far cry from my bald head and missing eyebrows from before.

With both hands I reach up and run my hands over my scalp, really feeling the silky smoothness of it. I giggle again. I can’t help myself. I’m completely different but I’ve never felt so whole. Dead or alive or whatever, if this is a dream I don’t wanna wake up.

A knock from behind, makes me jump. I spin around, stumbling again on the chilly wood again, and see the door next to my bed I must’ve missed in my focus on the mirror.

A stranger’s voice speaks through it, feminine and softly tinged with concern. “Sweetie? I heard noises, are you okay?”

Several different thoughts hit me at once and I have to clear my throat so I don’t stay silent for too long. “I’m fine.” I manage, only slightly put off by the pet name. Herding my scrambled thoughts together, I quickly add, “Mom.”

“Okay, dear.” She says. As the woman retreats from the door I’m made aware just how out of it I was in my excitement. The squeaking and groaning coming from the floorboards is clearly audible through the walls and when she reaches the stairs...Good lord, I have no clue how I missed that much creaking. Ether the house was in poor shape or my new family member is quite the whale.

Now that I’m paying attention though, I start taking stock.

My bedroom is actually quite nice. Longer than it is wide, the wall to my right has the two windows with curtains drawn back and letting in the dim light. One that’s closest to me has a simple wood desk before it and on that desk is a small collection of things: A half-melted candle in a tiny dish for collecting wax, a corked ink bottle with a few quills beside it, a short stack of blank parchment and a wooden chair for whoever sat there. A tiny office if there ever was one.

On the opposing wall is a wardrobe. Brown, tall, and just as basic as the desk, a pair of shoes sat open and unlaced at its base.

The other window is right next to my bed, its light revealing a small chest at the foot of it that I wouldn’t have seen if I’d stayed in bed. Even the mirror was at just the right angle to keep it out of sight. No bigger than a small footlocker, its single black metal latch gleams in the slowly growing morning.

As if waiting for me to turn around, the journal hooks my focus and reminds me of that tutorial mention of the first page.

Picking the journal up off the sheets, I take a seat on the edge of the bed and prop my legs on the chest and open the book.

It works just like the first page said.

I barely even have to think ‘Tutorial’ before the pages start fanning open and flip to the center of the book and lay flat.

Words spring up and quickly write themselves before me, some in neat typed print while others section are practically scribbled and soon the two open pages are packed yet not too crowded with information.

• _**Name:**__ Caifro Xom(Formerly: Joseph Rockford)_

• _Age: 12_

_Your age effects other’s perception of you and your actions, good or bad. What is acceptable for a child to do or say will not gain the same reaction if you were 25._

• _Race: Human_

_As you are a human being, one of many on this planet, you’re not that special. Does give you an advantage among certain crowds._

• _Gender: Male_

_You’re male. But considering your age, you could probably disguise yourself as a girl and strangers would be none the wiser._

• _**Nationality**_

_Nationalism. It’s here, its there, its everywhere. With the world split up among borders and states, there’s bound to be some bad blood spilled sometime in the past that the great-great-great-great grandchildren are swearing revenge for to this day. I’d be careful telling other’s where you’re from if you decide to travel without researching first._

_Hollandi: A citizen of Hollanda_

• _**Quests**_

_Yes, this is the kind of Quests you might be thinking of. However, combat is not the only kind you’ll get. Everything from learning about the world to interacting with your fellow townspeople to maybe creating something revolutionary can be a quest. Check this one often. Even thinking the right way can lead you down a quest line. Yes, you can fail them and some have explicit time limits._

_Current Quests_

_None._

_Completed Quests_

_None._

• _**Inventory**_

_Here is where you can view your personal belongings. This ranges from your journal to real estate and everything in between._

_Money: 25 Coppers|2 Silvers_

_Enchanted Journal: What you’re holding right now dummy. Can’t be stolen or taken off your person unless you want it to._

_Stack of Parchment(Set of 16): For writing, drawing, sketching, homework, whatever is needed._

_Quills(2): The pen is mightier than the sword._

_Inkwell: It’s ink. ...what'cha want from me?_

• _**Equipped**_

_Sleeping Clothes: Good to rest in but a little thin to go outside in._

_Underwear: Looks like you go for briefs._

• _**Storage**_

_Flat Cap: A nice hat for your head._

_Leather Vest: It’s green. How’d they get it that color?_

_Day Shirts(Set of 5): White and cottony_

_Brown Pants(Set of 5): ‘Get me my brown pants! Hah!’_

_Underwear(Set of 5): Fresh tidy-whiteys_

_Scarf: It’s orange. Going for a classic look there, Fred?_

_Brown Shoes: Good for walkin’, good for playin’, not so much for hard workin’_

• _**Status Effects|Effect Timelimit**_

_This will tell you everything from personal issues like a sprained ankle to a magical charm cast on you and how long it will last._

_Current Status: Dressed for Bed|Well Rested_

_Witch’s Hex(Curse|Permanent):???_

_Hammer Space(Boon|Permanent):???_

• _**Relationships|Standing**_

_Here are your personal relationships. Do take care of them as they will more often than not take care of you. And be careful, just like back on Earth you can irreparably damage someone’s perception of you the same way anyone could. There are consequences for carelessness and cruelty._

_Tia Xom (Mother):Excellent|Loving Son_

_Safir Xom (Eldest Brother):Average|Annoying Little Brother_

_Elliott Crud (Local Bully):Poor|Easy Target_

• _**Reputation**_

_This one is much different than the stats above but no less important nor finicky. This is what’s generally thought of you by groups, gangs or organizations. It’s important that you pay very close attention to this one. Piss off the wrong group of people enough and you might wake up one night with a knife buried in your throat. On the other hand, get on their good side and you’ll have people throwing themselves in front of arrows for you. There’s only one small issue. Like in real life, get too chummy with one side and you’ll piss off someone else that you may have never met. That’s just life, bud. (Note: You could play the balancing act with all sides but it would take a literal fuckton of effort)_

_Hollandia:???|Unknown Citizen_

_Allutanque: Good|A Local Child_

_Crud’s Chums: Poor|Easy Target_

_Silver Stream Academy: Good|Average Student_

_Tuian Clans: Hostile|The Young of The Trespassers_

_Anunav Tribe:???|Fresh Meat_

• _**Skills**_

_If you learn a spell to make water hot or if you’ve figured the runes necessary to summon a demon, it all goes here._

• _**Traits**_

_These are purely physical things about your body that has an effect on you and/or those around you, such as scars, hair color, or the fact you have a limp._

_SCD(Permanent):???_

_Shock and Awe(Permanent):???_

_Rock Solid(Permanent):???_

_A Hell of a Good Time(Permanent):???_

_A Growing Boy(Permanent):???_

_Note: YOU will have to look up these details here. There will be no screen popping up with a triumphant jingle or alert. The most you’ll get if you got new info is that the journal will glow a bit. This journal is here to inform and help guide, not a crutch to lean on every other second._

_Think ‘Information’ if you want access to your encyclopedia. ‘Codex’ for the codex when you learn things._

That…

That’s a lot to process.

So I’ve got a brother and mother with a relationship that sounds like a stereotypical 90s sitcom in the making. Just thinking that makes me shudder. I can take a new life be if I hear even a second of canned laughter, I will hunt down that witch…uh, whatever her name was.

The horror of a live studio audience aside, the little I’ve learned is unsettling. The **‘???’** blanks for one, knowing there is a curse on me and that there are so many permanent things that could do anything to me would’ve been bad enough but the ‘Reputation’ section…

I’ve no clue who the Tuan or the Anunav are. Antagonists probably, words like ‘Trespasser’ and ‘Fresh Meat’ don’t usually mean invitations to the block party barbecue. It kinda sets a certain tone.

Now that I think about it, didn’t the first page say something about…?

A quick check and Yep, Allutanque is a frontier town.

So what? Is Hollanda manifesting its destiny or something? Am I gonna get caught up in some Cowboys and Indians crap?

I can’t answer that.

And that’s another problem as well. I’ve got a ton to learn, a great deal of which is probably common knowledge and that limits my options. Asking blatant questions will raise eyebrows. The journal says I was inserted here like I’d always belonged but I don’t care how long you’ve may have known someone, if they one day suddenly started asking things like ‘What is a dog?’ or ‘How do I use a flashlight?’ and genuinely meaning it, you’re gonna be concerned for their health.

I’ll have to listen. Talk a little less and smile and nod a little more.

Another knock pulls me up from my deep musings and I reflexively snap the book in my lap shut without thinking about it.

The door opens a crack, not enough to peek but to see through.

“Caifro, time to get up,” my new mother urges. “Get dressed and cleaned up.”

A pause.

“Take that, reverse it.” She chuckles as she closes the door. I hear her walk further up the hall where her soft gentle voice speaks, probably to my new brother.

Yeah, I don’t know why but I get the feeling its not gonna be too hard to call this woman mom and I haven’t even seen her face yet.

Now, where is the bathroom?

XXX

I shouldn’t have worried, it was right across the hall from my room but…it wasn’t a ‘bathroom’ in the strictest sense. More like a large closet sized locker room with a pair of basins inside. The largest one, tucked into a corner is about the size of a tub with the smaller more wide a shallow one placed on a cabinet with a mirror.

Essentially a tub and sink, lacking any knobs or faucets to turn on or a drain to let out the water.

I stare at the smaller one, trying to puzzle out what exactly I’m to do with it. A brown ceramic cup has toothbrushes, one which has ‘Caifro’ carved on its thin handle.

On a whim, I decide to wipe the inside of the bowl with my hand. It’s polished white surface looks clean enough but if I have to carry water upstairs to it, I rather not wash my face or brush my teeth with last night’s dust mixed in.

_splish_

I jerk my hand away when the loose cuff of my sleeve dips into crystal clear water.

No way. It looks dry as a bone. Wringing out the cuff, I carefully poke a finger in and watch the surface ripple around it. The perfect temperature, too.

I wash my face and brush my teeth, reminding myself that this is a fantasy world. Meaning magic which also means there’s another thing to study.

Heading back to my room, I can’t quite put into words my shock and excitement. My hands ar shaking so bad that I fumble every other button of my night shirt as I hurry to get ready.

I take off my nightshirt, pulling it over my head and dropping it to the floor. When I turn to the drawer and catch a glance of myself in the mirror…

“Holy shit.” As much as this is my go to phrase apparently, I can’t help it this time. Its the only words I can manage at the reflection gaping back at me.

I'm slim enough that someone could call me petite if it wasn't for the fact I'm cut and corded with muscle. Sinewy and shredded, I can see the veins running along my biceps move my arms to feel myself and make sure that I'm not imagining this. Delicate, I am not. Now that I can see it, I can feel the fibers clenching and relaxing in a way I wouldn't have noticed before. I poke my chest and feel the dense hardness of my pecs. I look sculpted out of marble my skin is so smooth.

Like, athletic levels of fit in a way I never was, never had been even before the cancer had set in. I’d call myself statuesque if it wasn’t for the shortness of my frame and now, extremely young looking features. I’m a 12-year-old with the body of a 25-year-old gym rat which is impossible because, no child could get ripped like this.

Looking down at myself is just as weird as looking in the mirror and I pat my very flat stomach and feel the 8-pack abs twitch in response. They’re crammed together like bricks with no mortar between them, fighting for space around my middle.

Considering my child-sized waist, I look almost like I have an hourglass figure. Wide powerful chest and arms narrowing down before widening again at equally wide powerful thighs, I look absurd, at least that's my off-the-cuff reaction. I turn to my side to get a better look at my back and catch a full side view of my trained posterior. Hard as two rocks pressed together, both cheeks so wide and hard they stretch out my underwear until my white briefs almost resemble a thong. The stretched fabic runs up the crack just enough to look erotic without being too uncomfortable.

I don't look that bad, now that I think about it. This is actually kinda... Hot. Hell, not even in my wildest dreams would I ever have been this cut. I strike a pose, marveling at seeing my muscles just work like they do. A super hero's physique compacted into this frame. After a while though, I realize I still have to get breakfast.

I rush, yanking on some pants and one of the loose shirts, amazed how when I put them on I look totally normal. I make my way downstairs, the smell of bacon and eggs meeting me halfway down.

The steps creaked under my feet with every movement I made, loud enough to confirm that I shouldn't of missed anyone walking up them earlier this morning. So I really was out of it. Getting to the bottom and at the front door, I turn in the direction of where I can hear plates being set down and stroll into the living room. It's an antiquated simple thing, a rocking chair a couch and a loveseat positioned in a semi circle formation around a fireplace. Placed before the fireplace is a large coffee table with with various things on them that I can't recognize at the moment. I walked past it all and into the dining room- open kitchen area and see the woman who is now my mother with my own eyes.

She's putting down the last plate for breakfast and she is stunning. Now, I am a grown man so it's hard not to have the usual reaction to a pretty woman but the reminder that she is technically (and genetically) my mother takes what little building ideas are edging into my brain and hammers it down with a giant 'ICK'-shaped mallet.

Still, either this woman had children very young or she took excellent care of herself because I couldn't even guess at her age. Smooth skin, blonde hair the color of wheat, light healthy complexion, and a figure most women would kill for.

All that combined, made a startling picture that hardly fit the image of a woman, possibly a widow now that I think about it, raising two boys on her own. She could've told me she was in her mid-20s and I wouldn't have questioned it. Even the dress she had on, a rough brown colored simple house skirt with a white-buttoned blouse and basic but nicely made black shoes only added a fairytale impression to her.

Like, if this was a movie or anime, she'd be revealed as the kingdom's lost- thought dead-princess mid-season or come out as magically gifted girl, hidden away in the rural country because of tragedy or for their own safety, saving the town from danger at the last minute.

"..fro?" I snap out of it and realize I've been staring. My mother's green eyes are looking at me in concern.

"Sorry, mom. Didn't catch that." I say faking a yawn and stretching.

"I asked, did you sleep well last night?" She repeats as she goes over to an old-fashioned pot bellied stove and pulls a cast-iron skillet off the burner.

I shrug and sit down at the table, trying to act nonchalant as she starts plating up the eggs and bacon. "I guess so, hard to get to sleep last night."

She raised an eyebrow, sitting down as she puts the final two sunny side up eggs and a strip of bacon on her plate. "Oh? Was that why you are up so early in the morning?"

I nod and then look around, noticing the conspicuous absentee and his empty chair. Apparently my brother was indeed a teenager because if memory serves, the only thing that takes priority over food is sleep and from the lack of noise upstairs and that I hadn't seen what my new brother looked like, he certainly was in no hurry.

Then suddenly a racket took over the building, the thump of feet on the wood and a clattering of metal that sounded like a drum set up and knocked over. A door slammed against a wall, followed by running, another door slam then the feet going back to where it was, another clatter of metal and then finally the descending hurry feet on the steps.

My brother, blonde same as me but with blue eyes, comes rushing to the dining table but is halted by a cold stare from Mama Xom. "I thought I told you to get dressed."

Safir pulls the hem of his shirt, unintentionally displaying the streaks of dirt and other things on it. "It is clean." He says as if the declaration would just make the stains vanish. "This is the freshest one I got, just pulled it out of the drawer."

Yeah, I can't believe that.

"Uh-huh."

And neither can she. Folding her arms across her chest, she looks at him with a frown. "Okay, here is what you're going to do. You are going to sit down and eat in the moment you are done you are going to go upstairs and clean your room. Top to bottom."

He looks flabbergasted. "But The Guild tryouts are today, if I miss them I'll have to wait another two weeks. And that's if they'll have any openings then."

Tia Xom is unmoved, solidly not caring a fig at the devastated look sent at her across the table. "Maybe you shouldn't have let your room get in such a state that it would take so long to clean. I've told you again and again your room clean.”

Her voice is so clearly done with the conversation that I can almost hear the _'And that's that, mister.' _I would tell Saifir not to push his luck but think better of it. First, he's a teenager and given my own experience, probably won't listen to me and Secondly, I'm actually having too much fun to bother. I wanna see where this goes. "But my friends and I...we-we're gonna sign up together. As a team, mom! Come on!" 

He opens his mouth, a growing flush on his cheeks, lips twitching in a titanic effort to keep down a scowl. From the way Tia's eyes flash when he does, announces to me my new sibling has no sense of self-preservation. Danger is lookin' you in the eye, kid and you're about to try poking it in the eye. Luckily for him, she gives throws him one last line. Her tone dipping just above the threat threshold.

“And if you keep complaining I will have you do all the washing as well.” I don't even need to ask if that's all he would be doing. Washing would be the first on a long list of punishments.

...and slowly, as the implications sink in, Safir closes it. Head down and shoulders slouched, he slumps into his chair and starts eating, stuffing in a strip of bacon and, impressively, chewing violently.

I don't know why, but seeing this exchange makes me feel nostalgic for my own family. Not my immediate connections. My parents were... Well, they were pieces of work for certain as well as pieces of something else. They more or less filled the role as my genetic donors while leaving the basic essential positions of _Mother and Father _so vacant, you would've been forgiven being surprised that I existed in that house. 

Hell, is my dad even still alive? After my mom OD'd on whatever poison of the day she'd popped in her arm, my dad by court order left me with my grandmother during the police investigation and I never saw him again. Probably not...

Its hard to believe that my father came from my grandmother. Grandma Taylor was as strict as she was kind. So loving and would spoil you rotten but could pull off a look that could freeze a Bullet train in it's tracks. It she tuned that glare it just right, she could make you apologize for what you been _planning_ to do.

Tia Xom has that same quality about her, wanting discipline and order and more than willing to drop a whole truckload of 'I don't care' all over your plans if it's your own fault. Just thinking about the time she-

"What are you smiling about?"

I glance up from my plate, trip down memory lane aborted, to see Safir glaring at me over his plate, blue eyes narrowed. Thoughts stuttering to catch up, I'm about to say 'nothing' and go back to eating when, just as suddenly, I'm reminded I am the annoying little brother in his eyes and there probably is exactly nothing to say that would mollify the situation. I mean, he's calling me out when I haven't uttered a word to him. He's looking to stir the pot.

So I decide to give it a good hard punt, putting a bigger grin on my face.

"I'm just thinking about all the free time going to have this evening." I leave the rest unsaid. Bet he's smart enough to pick up on what I'm saying. No sooner has that come out of my mouth then I get a kick in the shin. Unfortunately for him, he's not subtle and causes the table to bang when his foot bumps one of the table legs and thus alerts Tia who easily puts together what just happened.

And so I get to watch as the Xom Matriarch tears into him, his embarrassed pinched expression crossed with a blush spreading to his ears. While it goes on, I lean back in my chair, enjoying the best plate of eggs and bacon I've ever had in my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/2/20: Don't mind me, just making some edits here.


	2. A Few Lessons At School

There's something to be said about the taste of eggs and bacon when they are cooked together in the same skillet. The flavor is unique, simple, and hard to mess up.

  
Don't need salt. Don't need pepper. Just put it in a pan and leave it alone.

  
It's a method that transfers smoothly into social situations and the common wisdom know as: Leave it.

  
_'Don't dig your own grave.'_

_'Quit while you're ahead.'_

_'Shut the hell up before you say something stupid.'_

  
These lessons are easy enough to learn, harder to master.

  
Unfortunately, Safir didn't seem to even grasp the novice levels of this.

  
Halfway through the meal and not even 10 minutes by my guess after being chewed out for kicking me, he tentatively looks up from his plate with the most kicked puppy dog look I've ever seen. "Hey, mom?"

  
I know that tone. I've used that tone. I know damn well he has practiced it because I had to, it was the only tone that ever spared me a beating when my mother was in a bad mood. It takes effort to simper in just the right way to make it sound natural but stopping short of replacing R's with W's so you don’t say ‘Sowwy’.

  
"Can I please do the trials? The guys... We already picked the party name and everything," he repeats.

  
He's good, I won't lie but there is a balance needed between your tone and the mood of the one you're talking to. And that's leaving out the fact that the older you get, the less effective it is.

  
Tia huffs, spearing a piece of bacon on her fork and taking a bite. Her chewing turning stiff as a relaxation that I hadn't noticed until now drains out of her. I don't have to read minds to hear the mental 'Here we go again.'

  
Safir clearly sees this and hurries, a desperate door-to-door salesman trying to get his pitch out before the door slams shut.

  
"Come on, mom. I promise to do my chores after. If I'm a no show when they get in, we might not be able to form a party at the Guild."

  
Party? My first thought is the classic 80s high school house party until a gear clicks into place.

  
"You're trying to be an adventurer?!" The way it slips out, I don't mean to sound so surprised and the evil eye he sends at me from across the table has me expecting another kick when Tia looks at me.

  
"Yes, he does. Your brother has been working hard for it. Being in the adventurers guild requires training and dedication. At least, from what little I know about the business." Safir brightens it this, sitting up a little straighter. "It also needs discipline and," There is a weight to the pause, her focus back on him. "Honesty." That last word is said so coolly that I'm surprised ice cubes don't roll off her tongue.

  
"You promised the same when you went to go fishing with the Lyons' boy. You promised when the spring festival came. You promised to me that you would remain organized and clean so many times yet not once have you followed through. So no, you are not going to the trials, I don't care if the Guildlady herself comes over with a handwritten invitation for you in the next five seconds. You're not going."

  
Salesman, meet slammed door. Tia speaks with barely an octave change and every word of it makes Safir wilt deeper and deeper into his chair, trying to make himself as small as possible.

  
Hell, I sink down a little myself so I don't catch any attention. Just in case.

  
Breakfast ended pretty quickly after that. There wasn’t much talking with Safir’s guilty sulking and my returning nervousness of slipping up and saying something idiotic. But all in all, a pretty good first meal with my new family. I take my time when I leave the table, heading back to my room with easy slow strides as I take in my new situation.

  
It's nice and cozy. Smooth wooden floors with sturdy walls that gives the place a rustic feel. Like a well-made cabin in the woods with just enough modern amenities to make it comfortable. We even have throw pillows on the couch, very plush cushioning on the armchair, and a pair of framed pictures above the fireplace.

  
It actually takes me a few seconds of staring to figure out that these pictures are paintings. I get closer and though I can see the strokes of the brush against the light in the room, my mind keeps wanting to switch back to seeing it as a photo.

  
Whoever painted these had a great deal of talent and skill. The whole scene is taking place in a meadow of some sort, grass spreading out in every direction save for a single tree that the focus of the painting is standing under.

  
The two people depicted look about ready to step off the canvas.

  
I immediately recognize Tia Xom. Standing cool and collected, she cradles a bouquet of flowers in the crook of her arm the color of which pops out against the white sleeve of a dazzling wedding dress. Flowing from the modest floral lace neckline to the elegantly simple velvety fabric making up the skirt cutting at midcalf, the whole thing is stitched together so smoothly I swear it could be a single piece of fabric.

  
Her smile is pure.

  
Of all the words in my vocabulary, _pure_ is the only description I can scrape up. The woman in this picture looks alive, telling all who look upon her that she is indeed the happiest woman in the world right now. Arm in arm with the man next to her, she's satisfied, joyful, and hopeful.

  
The man she is with though...

  
I don't know how the artist did it but if I were to take this picture off the wall and lay it on the floor, the sheer presence of the well-dressed man next to Tia would still loom over me.

  
Imposing didn't even begin to describe it. More than two heads taller than Tia with a head of long shockingly red hair tucked behind his ears, I actually have to wonder how I didn’t notice him at the very least when I came downstairs. His posture is ramrod straight. Shoulders back and chest forward, he stands at attention assuming the role of a military man. Eyes like blue flint, he looks out with a steely gaze demanding respect from the viewer while his sharp angular features are solid.

  
'Solid' is a perfect word for him. The black gold buttoned uniform he wears is far from formfitting, a brown cape clasped around his shoulders adding more to look at, yet his bulk fills in his tall frame and everything in me knows that he knows how to use it. Even his black boots, polished to a gleaming shine, look ready to march through anything and anyone in his way. Since genetically I should be this man's child, that could possibly explain the unusual physical traits of my body... Maybe?

  
But what's off putting is his smile. Unlike Tia who looks over the moon, his expression is less of a smile and more of a knowing quirk touching his lips. Almost like the Mona Lisa, I can't pin down what emotion it is because it changes depending on how you look at it. One second, he knows something you don’t and the next, he’s content.

  
Maybe Tia really is an exiled princess or something and this was her prince.

  
"Your father is a man of many strengths. His loyalty being one of them."

  
I nearly jump out of my skin and spin around to see Tia looking at me. Her smile a phantom compared to what is on the painting and the barest glitter tears in the corner of her eyes. She moved next to me and looked up at the picture. "I'm sure he'll come home soon.”

  
I feel awkward. While it explains why I haven’t met my ‘father’ yet or why he’s not in the journal, I've been snatched far out of my comfort zone and honestly don't know what to say. Luckily, I don't have to say anything. Reading my silence the entirely wrong way, Tia puts a gentle hand on my shoulder, squeezes to comfort me then continues on to another room in the house.

  
It's weird. When I look back at this picture, I get the sense that this man would never allow anything to stand between him and his family. Strange expression or not, he just doesn't look the type to let something he wants to go without a fight.

  
So different from my own father. The only thing he let go easier than money was me.

  
Rick Taylor was often the reason why there was no money for my mom to give to her dealer and thus why I would get my ass beat by her. His dumping me at my grandmother’s was the only good thing that man ever did for me and I'll bet every dollar I ever earned and spent that he didn't think of it that way.

  
The admiration and respect in Tia's voice makes me want to meet him, if only to know the type of person who could make a woman smile like that. I wonder if Lilly ever –

  
Mentally, I slam the door on that dark room in the corner of my mind. Let's not have a crisis in the middle of the living room, okay?

  
I certainly won’t be doing that.

  
It is a matter of seconds for me to reach the stairs and head back up to get myself ready for school, something that I've never ever dreamed I’d be doing again. It actually makes me a little giddy. Going to school in a fantasy world, I'm about to live the dream of every Harry Potter fan on earth.

  
I'm not sure what I need for school, so I take my satchel and start packing. A few of the quills first, ink bottle, then some parchment. Again, it doesn't take long.

  
Picking up the Journal from where I left it, I’m about to stuff it in but no sooner do my fingers brush the cover than the urge to open it nearly overwhelms me, flashing across my brain with such intensity that I nearly drop my satchel. Very slowly, I set my things down, crouch onto the footlocker, and set the book in my lap.

  
When I crack it open, it automatically flips to my status screen and I see one of the question marked **Traits** is now filled in.

  
_Rock Solid(Permanent): You’re absurdly fit for such a young age. Cut like a damn diamond. Expect comments if you wander around with your shirt off or in tight clothes. You are two times as strong as the average twelve-year-old and have the equivalent reflexes and hand eye coordination to boot._

  
Well, I guess that explains one thing. I did not get my body from my father. But it is convenient, I can't deny that. Fantasy world suggests that hard labor is the main source of income and industry as I'm pretty sure not everyone can afford to have magic replace good old-fashioned elbow grease.

  
So...A boon in more ways than one. There isn’t much of a downside to being in shape in general, much less so at the moment. Who wouldn't mind being fit?

Now that I think about it, my movements did feel sharp in a way they hadn't before though, coming from the state I was in, I could’ve been a toddler and be certain I could take on the world.

  
As an experiment, I get to my feet and do a few jumping jacks. The motions feel light as I hop. I try adding a punch forward after every one and besides a moment in which I need to adapt each swing into the rhythm of the exercise, I barely feel pressured. Sure, I'm not trying to go for a full on workout but I can tell I'm smoother. It all comes to me naturally in a way that it never had, even before the cancer.

  
However, the warning that this was unusual enough to get attention was useful though a bit redundant. I'm not the show off type. Leave that to the models and actors in my opinion. Lily always said –

  
I shake my head and mentally shove away the melancholy that tries to creep in. I don't want to break down, not here. If I start crying, and I know I won’t stop if I do, the last thing I need is the inevitable questions that would follow if anyone comes to check up on me. Doesn't make me miss her any less.

  
Tucking the journal into my satchel, I sniff finish getting dressed. Putting on my shoes, my vest and my hat, I make my way back downstairs and head for the door. "I'm heading to school." I say as I exit, shutting the door behind me before I hear a response from anyone.

  
Seeing Allutanque for the first time was like stepping into a storybook. It's a bright sunny morning and there's so much green in every direction.

  
Looking right, I see a dirt track road stretching off into the distance, curving along distant rolling hills and between fenced off farms. The kind that most back on Earth probably haven’t seen unless on a road trip through the mid-west. Clearly, not the way to school but I'm tempted to just start walking. The air is fresh and crisp, a cool breeze carrying the scent of flowers and grass and, it's just so different and clearly far, far away from a city.

  
I glance left and to my surprise, my house isn't that far from the square. In fact, I have a clear view of the fountain in the center of town from the front steps of the porch.

  
My satchel, lightly loaded, bounces at the small skip in my step as I walk left down the porch to the center of town.

  
Taking in everything, I see there’s is a rustic clean almost-Victorian styling to the buildings. Houses are packed close together with small walled off yards. For a rural town on the frontier, there is a lot more tile and brick than I would’ve expected. Very little wood and thatch buildings. The roads are rough cobbled stone and as I get closer to the fountain its detail becomes clearer, made out of concrete is a fine figure of a robed woman, holding a vase that's pouring water into the pool.

  
I'm about to question how a frontier town could get something so fancy but then I am reminded of the sink in the bathroom. Magic exists here and that's something I must get used to. Magic adds a whole new dimension to things, workarounds and alternatives to basic and complex problems that I never could have considered until this morning.

  
I am just about to pass the last pair of houses on either side of the road and into the square when a noise brings my musing to a halt. Some scuffling and then the voices of several people chuckling. I glance over to it and realize that there is a narrow alley way between the walled off property of two houses and just out of sight of anyone who isn't directly passing by.

  
And right at the end of it, a dead end where another building or something blocks off whatever exit there would have been, is a group of five or so boys gathered around another. Two of them stand out for two very different reasons.

  
“Dirty animal.” I catch as I get closer.

  
For the first one, the one speaking...

There are times when one can figure out that they won't like a certain person just from seeing them. Yeah, that was the feeling I get when I see the boy in front. Not just because he was kicking someone while they were down but I could tell that he was just a very nasty character.

  
He was large, probably the tallest of the group with grimy blonde hair, a face that only a mother could love when it wasn't twisted into a snarl, with that 'I have a bone to pick with the world' air about him. Even his clothing, ratty and dirty, seems fit to match him. The other boys seemed rather clean compared to him but it was also clear that he was a leader from the way the others followed him in the pummeling. He’d kick or punch first and step back to let the others have a turn, jeering their victim all the while.

  
“Fleabag!”

“Mangy!”

“Mud Wallower!”

  
What are the odds that this was Elliott Crud and that these were Crud's Chums?

  
However, it's the boy that they are beating on that really gets my attention. His green hair caught my eyes first. At least, I thought the mass on his head was only his hair. It was when he twitched away from a poorly aimed blow that I make out the ears. Triangle shaped like a fox with the green fur to match the green of his hair.

  
In any other situation, I might've been struck dumb from the shock of seeing a literal anime archetype living, breathing, before my eyes. It was any fan boys or fan girls dream and while my previous life separated me from what used to be my teenage and early adult obsessions, I couldn't help but feel a tiny tingle of excitement.

  
And excitement that was thoroughly stomped out by the reality that was witnessing an assault. Even if I'd had the context for what was going on, it would've made no difference.

I will fully admit though, that I didn't handle the situation as well as I could have. Sure, if I'd been in the fox-eared guys place the decision would be simple, do my damnedest to give twice what I got.

  
But I never liked bullies. I had taken my lumps at school growing up with the issues I had and, for a short time, from my 'family' using the loosest definition of the term. Those in charge tried to help but when you're in a public school with overworked staff and over a thousand kids, you can't keep an eye on one particular boy all the time.

  
Speaking of authority...I look around, don't you usually find a cop or an adult in situations like this? This is a crime, after all. This street is empty though, no one's nearby. I hear another blow, this one sounding particularly hard followed by a high-pitched yelp. I look back to see who I am more certain is Crud with a foot on the other child's face. Ah, what the hell, I’m a child so I might as well act like one. Got no time to find someone anyway.

  
“Hey, Crud!” I shout, scooping up the clot of mud from the un-cobbled opening of the alley. Just as I thought, the largest boy straightens in surprise. Caught off guard, he is frozen long enough for me to take aim and throw for all I'm worth. It's a pitch any self-respecting MLB player would scoff at.

  
So it's an enjoyable surprise when my shot is right on target. Looks like I won't have to worry about my hand eye coordination, at least.

  
Whack! It beans Elliott right in the face as he's turning around to look at me with enough force that the splattering muck knocks his hat clean off.

  
He yelps in pain, stumbling back and tripping over his feet.

  
This gets the attention of the rest who stare at Elliott then up at me. The shock on their faces is hilarious. There is six of them, not including Elliott.

  
With all eyes on me, the other boy seeing his chance literally explodes into motion. What happens next to something more out of a kung-fu film. He's on his feet and in a blur he jumps, somersaulting over the heads of his tormentors then scrambling up one of the opposing yard walls, his green gloves apparently have plenty of grip. Before any of them can react, he's on top of it and running along the narrow strip of stone like it's nothing, green shoes a blur and... Is that a tail?

  
I stare, catching flies as with a hop, he vanishes over and behind the alley wall.

  
A grunt brings me back to the here and now. Crud is getting back to his feet and he looks quite put off...

  
I make the decision to leave while everyone's attention is still not on me. Unfortunately, I'm not fast enough. I don't even have time to take a step before Crud and I lock eyes. His shock turning into a burning anger as he stands, face reddening and fists clenched.

  
"Xom." He growls, saying my name the same way a 50s politician would say Russian, and getting the attention of everyone else, who look equally put out that I've ruined their fun. He starts making his way towards me with clear purpose and they close ranks behind him.

  
With Crud leading, I get a clear idea why I picked him out as someone I wouldn't like from the get-go, he looks like that bastard.

  
Much younger and much thinner, at least 200 pounds short of that whale in an expensive suit that I'd shot but it's a startling resemblance to the CEO nonetheless.

  
Scowling face streaked with thick brown globs, he’s missing the blubbery jowls and piggish cheeks but none of the nasty attitude.

  
That makes it easier to grab mud by the handful and start chucking it. Most of the boys are still pretty far down the alley at this point and I miss more than I hit, but it's enough of a distraction to get them scattering, running and bumping and falling over each other like a Three Stooges act. Flanked by walls, the lane is narrow and clear, giving them nothing to duck behind.

  
Crud is determined to kick my ass though and charges through my barrage like a bull and I barely manage to grab a loose cobble and wind up like I’m about to throw. He flinches, hesitating instinctively at the threat.

  
It slows him down enough. Wheeling around, I dodge and feel the swish of air, barely avoiding the tackle and don't wait to watch the scramble as he falls in the dirt. Kicking up quite a bit of dust, he's outraged bellow confirms that cussing is pretty much the same here as it is on earth. I say pretty much because I don't know what a 'tar bagger' is.

  
Soon more voices join, followed by running steps as they hit the cobbles but by then I am clear around the corner.

  
There is an advantage at being an adult. Like pulling off tricks that wouldn't have a snowball's chance in hell of working on the older and more experienced. Tricks such as climbing into a conveniently placed empty barrel in front of a closed shop.

  
It's too easy. I actually have to hold in laughter as angry young voices speed past, followed by confusion, then they start splitting off into different directions.

  
I count to 100 before peeking out of my hiding spot. The square is empty, for the most part. There are a few people milling about, getting ready for the morning. A bearded guardsman strides by and quirks an eyebrow when he sees me. At least, I think he’s a guardsman. Decked out in leather armor and a sword strapped to his side, there’s a purple and blue patch in the shape of a badge on his shoulder.

  
"Morning, sir." I greet, levering myself out of the barrel.

  
"Mornin'," he grumbles, still not quite sure how to react to me.

  
Brushing off my clothes I give him a polite bow and I'm about to continue on my way when it finally hits me that I have no clue where school is. "Sir?"

  
"Hmm?" A man of many words, isn't he?

  
"Where is the school?"

  
Yeah, from the look on his face he's decided to slot me into the 'I don't have time to deal with this' category. With the scoff, he turns on his heel and continues his brisk purposeful walk but not before waving dismissively towards a huge three-story building that I couldn’t have missed blind.

  
I say thank you but he doesn't respond, continuing on his patrol or maybe just finishing up. He does look tired.

  
Well, better get moving.

X

  
It only hits me when I enter the huge front hall of the school building that the guard could've been staring at me for a whole other reason. A reason beyond not knowing the obvious.

  
A reason I'm just figuring out as the wooden door creaks shut behind me. A reason like... Being far too early for school. Clearly there's someone here, the doors were unlocked but no sight of any students besides me. Torches against the wall flutter in a light draft, brightening up the dim room just enough for me to see the grand banners that hang above the massive staircase leading up.

  
I look around at the empty hall, not quite sure what to do. Don't want to go back home, that would be awkward. A sign catches my eye. ‘Library’ etched in a wooden plaque hangs above an open archway to the left.

  
Well, why not? If anyone comes in asking me what I am doing here this early, I could just say I'm studying. I can't help but smirk, it's not like it would be a lie. Since I'm here, I might as well do some brushing up as it were.

  
At worst, someone will kick me out and I just have to come back later but I highly doubt that would happen.

  
My shoes echo on the stone floor before quieting down when I enter the library, thick carpet muffling my steps.

  
I'm caught off guard by the massive amounts of books in the room. Shelf after shelf after shelf is lined with so many books, scrolls, and whatnot that they look ready to fall if they’re so much as sneezed on the wrong way. Before I can get overwhelmed, there are more wooden placards that state which shelf has which subject.

  
I spend sometime browsing, walking back and forth along the shelves to take in my options. There are quite a few books without a title printed on the spine, more than I would've expected but there are plenty of them that do state what they are. Once I reached the last shelf, I backtrack to the books that caught my interest. Most of them are in the history section.

  
Moons of History.

The Twin Houses.

Celestial Articles.

Beasts and Potions: A Bestiary.

  
Soon I have a healthy stack, more than I could ever read before school starts – whenever that was – but more than enough to give me a little taste of everything. Taking a seat at the nearest empty table, I set out which ones I want to skim first.

  
Beasts and Potions has the best looking front. An intricately designed medallion in the center of the leather cover, engraved with a beaker that's letting off smoke in the shape of a tree. I open it and the first thing I see is a very detailed illustration of some hybrid of a wasp, a hornet, and a bee. It looks vicious and while I'm not a fan of insects in general, this one has a maliciousness to it that I can't quite put my finger on. Then I read the accompanying text on the next page.

  
_Alpha Bee_

  
_Ranging in size from the average household cat (Drones) to a queen going to match a pony at the shoulders, all the bees are far from dangerous individually. Like they're far less lethal cousins, they will swarm anything they perceive to be a threat to the hive and have been documented wiping out groups of unprepared collectors of sometimes 20 people are more._

  
_It's pollen, a useful ingredient in most vigor potions, is naturally corrosive and, if collected, must be stored in a medium vessel of glass with a cork and wax seal to prevent accidents during transport._

  
Okay, I stand corrected. If I ever see this thing, I'm running full speed in the other direction. Fuck it, first thing on the list is to figure out how to make a can of monster Raid. What if there are Alpha botflies? Like holy-

  
BANG!

  
"Shit!" I jump and no, I don't scream like a 12-year-old girl but as a 12-year-old man, nearly toppling backwards in my chair. It wobbles under me giving gravity a moment to decide to push or pull.

  
'Push,' it decides and the front legs come back down with a whump.

  
Heart hammering, a clutch my chest and damn near jerked my chair over again at the face suddenly less than 2 feet from mine.

  
I've got no damn clue where he came from but the boy crouching on the table like Spider-Man is inspecting, yellow eyes narrowed as he looks me up and down. His face is instantly familiar, as well as the clothes he's wearing.

  
It's when his ears, triangle and up right, twitch that I figure it out, again mistaking them for part of his wild forest green hair, made messier by the light brown remains of dirt sticking random locks together. The stains in his clothes and... I leaned back a little. This close-up, what I'd thought were gloves and boots are revealed as bare green-furred hands and feet. Well, if you called the not insignificant claws where fingernails would be and are currently digging shallow furloughs into the lacquered wood table top as simply hands and feet.

  
No wonder he is able to climb like he did.

  
Crud and his Chums have quite the set to gang up on someone with those on the end of their fingers. That or they're just incredibly stupid.

  
He leans in, a growl building in his chest and I hear the scratching. I'm going to say stupid.

"Why you help?" He snaps, still sizing me up.

  
"I – uh, what?"

  
He growls again, irritated he is repeating himself to me. Like I should know how to respond when someone comes out of nowhere like a demented Jack-in-the-Box, stares me down like a gunslinger five seconds to high noon, and not be at a loss for words. "Why you help?"

  
This question makes its way through the shock and I answer without thinking. "It was the right thing to do, ganging up on you like that wasn't fair."

  
His face tightens. "Life not fair." The fox boy finally says after a long moment.

  
"True, but it doesn't mean I can't try to make it better." His response is surprisingly grim for someone so young but I parry it fairly easily as I get my wits back.

The tension in his features, bordering on hostility, fades slightly.

  
"Tawny!" Whatever he was about to say as lost as shout makes both of us jump.

  
I turned to see another animal person, the man who shouted, with the brightest orange fur and dressed only in pants and a brown belt angrily stomping over, followed by a willowy woman with short black hair looks on just this side of alive. Her pale skin, the bags under her eyes, and the completely black dress and robe makes her look like she's late for her own funeral. Her frustrated frown matches the other adult's though as the man continues. "You're on my table?"

  
Clearly frightened and all posturing now gone, the fox boy, Tawny is his name, braces for a jump escape. His pounce is just like before. Or it should of been.

  
He slips mid-spring, mud on his feet and the slick surface of the table sending him into a headlong collision into the man's chest instead of the Jackie Chan leap over their heads he clearly intended.

  
The orange furred guy doesn't even stumble. His arm blurs and suddenly he's holding the flailing child at arms reach. The woman however didn't even break stride, she took one look at the table and the books that had been knocked to the floor and scowled. "And the books too." She sighs in exasperation, her thin voice low and tired. The man's frown deepened, he could see the mess as well, wasn't too hard to see.

  
She doesn't even spare me a look as she turns around when speaks. "What have we told you about the library?"

  
I take the lack of acknowledgment as a sign of dismissal and excuse myself but not before I hear Tawny's answer, voice defeated. "Not to climb."

  
Finding my classroom didn't take long after that. I see students arriving as I enter the hall, streaming unit ones and twos and even if they hadn't it still would've been simple to find my way since it was the only classroom.

  
The entire second floor of the building is a theater-like room with desks and plenty of seating in neat little rows and a large black board at the end. I take a spot in the middle, pull out my things, and wait for class to start.

  
My encounter with Tawny puts me on guard, so when a few familiar dirty faces minus their leader, stroll in, I pick them out right away.

  
It takes them a minute to see me, a redhead noticing me first than elbowing the others and pointing in my direction. They all glare and take their seats behind me. I don't need to see them do it, I can feel them trying to burn a hole in the back of my head with their eyes. Oh boy, this is gonna be an interesting first day.

I'm proven right but not in the way I expect. As the final trickle of students enter, it's a matter of seconds before the walking personification of the word 'Extra' comes in.

  
"Good morning, Class~!"

  
It was like watching a stereotype in the sparkliest wizard's robes stride in, times a thousand. First, his appearance tiptoed that feminine/masculine line like a tight rope. Until he opened his mouth, my mind kept banging from woman to man and back with every blink. The long golden hair tucked behind his ears is decorated with colorful feathers and beads that clicks with every step he takes and clatters as he stops at the blackboard and spins around to face us, blue white robe and loose sleeves billowing dramatically at the motion.

  
While I didn't know if the caricature of a gay man even existed here, if it did this guy leaned hard into it. Like forget about tasting the rainbow, he's feasting on it by the mouthful.

  
I try my best not to judge someone by how they act but if this guy wasn't pitching for the other team I'd eat my hat.

  
"Morning, Master Vox." Everyone but I state back in the most 'It's another day of class' monotone I have heard and said before.

  
Good to know this isn't unusual.

  
His smile widens as he turns to the blackboard, swiping up a piece of chalk and holding it delicately between manicured fingers with purple nail polish. It says something up about what he looks like that I'm just noticing the angular points of his ears now.

He's an elf. I've met my first elf. And damn it, he's pretty.

  
"Do I have a hard lesson for you today~." He says, biting his lower lip.

  
There's a pause and I am fully expecting the studio audience laughter by now. God, I almost want to say to him get on with it.

My annoyance is short lived though. He flips this freehand upwards and books that must've been stored under the desk float into the air and to the desks, landing in front of every student." Please open your books to chapter 13. Today's lesson will be on the basic elements of earth."

  
The following lesson is difficult indeed but only in that way anything can be when you enter a beginners class midway through a school year. You're playing catch-up at the best of times and left swinging in the wind at the worst. It doesn't help that Vox's voice calls to mind the valley girl typecast. So much so, I'm expecting a 'like, whatever' to bubble its way out of his mouth at any moment.

  
The Good thing about it is that the subject is magic being taught which makes it interesting. From the outset, I'm scrambling to jot notes down as the teacher speaks and expands on what's in the textbook. This isn't unexpected on reflection. Magic is real, so why wouldn't it be as technical as a science class?Some of the things I learn like, magic has an almost rock paper scissors standard to them. Earth magic doesn't work with air magic which doesn't work with water magic which doesn't work with fire magic save for a few exceptions like clay or steam, are points I go out of my way to note. Until one thing jumps out at me as I'm skimming the book and I raise my hand. "Ye~ss, Mr. Xom?"

  
"It says here," I begin, pointing at the passage in question, "that most people cannot use earth magic and that most magical abilities in general are rare. So, why are we learning this?"

  
To Vox Plar's credit and experience as a teacher, if my question is dumb he doesn't make a show of it. He claps his hands together and smiles "Simple reasons. First, while most of you will probably not be able to make proper use of what I teach, it will help you in the future when you decide to buy magical products. There are many charlatans out there who will looo~ove to take advantage of those who live in the country using half-baked enchantments that last for as long as they are in town or for the really unscrupulous, sell you cursed items." The last few words carries a gravely serious air and the consistantly present smile that followed the entire lesson to this point slips ever so slightly. Then he brightens and shrugs, the gloom falling off of him like a cloak. "The latter is a worst case scenario and is a serious crime but one should never underestimate the greedy. Secondly, if any of you decide to become adventurous when you grow up, knowing the differences between a ritual and a cantrip will save you and your party members bacon more often than not." He puts a fist on his cocked hip and wags a finger at me as he finishes. "Am. I Making. Sense?"

  
I nod, kinda weirded out by the suggestiveness in his tone and the anime schoolgirl like pose but there's just something in the way he does it that makes it look...natural? "Yes, sir."

  
Still, Master Vox's pace is relentless. Steady and not too fast yet continuous, glossing over things I have to assume he's covered before. "So can anyone tell me the difference between living stone and plain stone?" He asks, his question finally allowing me to catch up. I managed to put the last. On the note when the elf about faces in a flutter of cloth and clacking, finger aimed at me like accusation. "Champa. Stout! Don't think I don't see you. Throw those and I'll have you writing lines after school for the rest of the week."

  
I realize he's pointing behind me and when I turn around I see two of the boys, the redhead and a blonde both holding balls crumpled paper, ink dribbling off the edges. It's clear what they're about to do with that and who their target is.

  
They both lower their hands as Vox strides between the desks, hand outstretched as he comes to a stop next to them. The balls float out their grasp and the elf snaps his fingers. There is a pop like a tiny firecracker going off and the parchment flashed into an instant of flame before fluttering into ash.

  
Okay, lesson learned. Stereotype or not, this guy can turn paper to ash with a snap. Not the kind of person you want to... Make upset, let's just say. Both boys seem particularly cowed by the display. I don't feel bad for them in the slightest since I had been so focused on the lesson that I actually began to forget about the troublemakers.

  
Flouncing back to the blackboard, the wizard points at a student who has been raising her hand consistently throughout the entire class, a girl with a wide-brimmed black hat which so oddly stands out against her blue dress. "Enchantments on living stone are self powered while regular stone needs magic from the enchanter," she states, all prim and proper as if reciting from a script. Looks like I know who the resident nerd is.

  
"Correct, Miss Hall."

  
"Now," Vox beams, flicking his wrist. A small brown bag knotted with string appears in his hand, with a flourish he undoes the knot and two brown ball shaped objects roughly the same size drop into his open palm as he tips the bag over. "for a proper example. I want you all to pass these around the class. This one," he floats one over to my side of the room. "Is regular clay. The other is living clay. Both can be manipulated by water magic and earth magic but only one of these can handle both at the same time."

  
The passes the other to the opposite end of the classroom. "I want you to really dig your fingers in, feel it, hard grip or a soft rub, handle it any way you like!"

  
Oh lord, could you PLEASE stop rubbing this tired sitcom joke in my face? 

  
By the time the first ball reaches, it's no longer in orb. Dented and cratered by the treatment of several children given the go-ahead to be is a rough as they wanted.

  
I feel it and... It's clay. Nothing really special about it. Firm but I can form it into a rough cylinder before I pass it to the next. A few minutes later and I get the other one which is, to my mild interest, still round.

  
It's lighter brown surface is smooth on my fingers and cool against my palm. I could be holding a large marble until I tightened my grip. It squishes like Play-Dough and reforms back into it shape like memory foam before my eyes. I squeeze it, flatten it against the desk, and poke a hole in it with my finger before, with effort, I pass it along.

  
Vox gets both clays back at pretty much the same time. Holding them out for everyone to see, the lighter ball matches what it had been when it was first shown, compared to the other darker one, which could be a modern art piece at this point. "I enchanted both the same way. The simple preservation spell I cast on the regular clay failed under stress because it was without me constantly putting mana into it. The living did not need such attention."

  
Pulling a corked vial from his sleeve with yellow and black puffs inside, he removes its wax cover and opens it. Setting the clay on the desk, he gingerly tips a tiny bit from the vial onto each one.

  
They immediately hiss as whatever it is eats away at them to the interested OOO's of the class.

  
The middle of the plain is gone in seconds and the living bubbles and foams, trying to keep it shape for the enchantment or something runs out as its center is being consumed.

  
Soon the color goes dull, matching the other before being consumed.

  
"But even living Earth has its limits. The enchantment wasn't strong nor weak. This Alpha bee pollen," He corks the glass,"just ran its natural energy to the limit."

  
Nevermind. Screw running in the other direction, I would take a high dive of a cliff into a shallow pond before even thinking of going in the general direction of those flying nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done. Was meant to be much longer but I realized if I didn't cut things short I'd have never finished it. Nothing Lewd yet...but next chapter...
> 
> Here is my twitter, BTW: https://twitter.com/bio_xom


	3. Mud Slinging

Vox takes a few more questions in his usual way, slowing down the pace enough that I can take more detailed notes as the class is wrapping up. With a literal shower of sparkles coming off his robe, he glides out the door, leaving a shimmering trail behind him.

I’m so caught up in the display I almost miss the mumbling of the boys behind me. No doubt they’re waiting to be sure the wizard is completely gone before starting something.

**   
  
**

They don't get the chance. No sooner has Vox left then our next teacher waddles her way in. Its quick too. Like the door doesn’t have time to completely shut before it's jerked back open so fiercely I’m surprised it doesn’t fly from the hinges and bang off the wall.

With her bulk, she had to have been waiting just outside the door or near enough to enter. Our first teacher cemented the _ fantasy _ in fantasy school. This woman quickly reminds me of the school part of that equation. And not the good parts.

Admittedly, I should have expected it since Harry Potter had Snape to deal with.

And just like Vox and Snape, this woman is a character. Imagine the strictest, most stick in the mud person you know, the one who can never take a joke or takes one too seriously. Now throw that person away because this woman looks like she was born with an irritating stick buried in her ass to the hilt. 

Like holy crap. She is not only shaped like a lemon, she looks like she took a bite out of one!

With a pair of Pince-nez glasses perched on a hook nose and dressed in a antique looking suit, even by the standards of this place. Both the coat and shin length skirt has the markings of being let out more than once for her rotund figure, the stitching sloppy and quite obvious. She takes a heavy seat behind the desk. I’m not surprised when I hear the chair creak in the now silent classroom.

Her eyes, beady and squinting, gaze at us like a searchlight and the murmuring that Vox left in his wake shuts up so fast I think the room actually hurt itself. Well, this class ain’t gonna be any fun.

Every student straightens, hands folded together on top of their desks like mirror statues of each other. Her narrowed gaze sweeps the room as if looking anyone or anything to be out of place.

It was right at this moment that the door slams open. Tawny, embodying the appearance of a child having to sit through a long tirade, prowls in with his shoulders hunched and ears flat, focus squarely on the floor. I would've said he was sour if it wasn't for the teacher didn’t already symbolize it. The green haired fox-boy takes his seat at the only empty desk, the one to my right with the teacher glaring at his unconcerned back the whole time.

Speaking of, her face is pinched even further at his loud entrance and nonchalant attitude. Then she sniffs at Tawny's lack of reaction and then focused on the rest of us. "I shall be taking attendance," she begins, pulling a huge leather tome out and bringing it down on the desk with a **_BANG _**that makes everyone jump. “Speak when I call your name.”

Her tone is bored and her behavior reminds me of my short stint in retail and food service and those kinds of people. The 'I want to speak with your manager' types mixed in with the authoritarian teaching attitude.

I make sure to say present when she gets to my name.

I quickly learn two things. One: This woman, the math and writing teacher's name is Miss Gillette Poe which makes me feel sorry for her for about as long as it takes me to find out number two: She is worse than Snape. Who was written and designed to be the most unpleasant. 

The former subject, math, is my worst hands down. I was never that good at it before things like algebra came up in high school and backhanded me across the face. However, not for the first time I get some luck. The whole class is a great school level.

Basic stuff, too. I all but dominate this class. It's refreshing to know all the answers and be one of the few who doesn't need time to think when called on. The only one better is the Hall girl, further cementing her nerd status in an equally smooth showing.

The novelty of it wears off quick, though. Miss Poe through her sharp tone and sharper attitude, ask like every child here has taken a piss on her mother's grave.

Her voice is grating, for one. Like the worst mix of a smoker, someone tone deaf, and a loudmouth, she's both annoying to listen to and impossible to let fade into the background. Not to mention her constant dropping of her book to bang it off the desk if anyone did somehow manage to get distracted. Behavior aside, it's when we get to the other lesson that things pick back up.

To my surprise, what we read from is a myth of some kind written by a Shanian poet named Prilinc that's a little more advanced than 'See Spot Run'. I have no clue what a Sha looks like or if it's separate from human but I listen and follow along nonetheless. Maybe Tawny is Sha? A question for later.

"Eva Hall, read the next page."

The girl stands up and recites from the piece of parchment that was passed out, her voice surprisingly unenthusiastic and monotone compared to Vox’s class.

_ “Tungin couldn't stop thinking about the villain. _

_ It was just so bitter and cruel, _

_ But he could never forget the vanillin. _

_ That morning, Tungin was shocked by the milmillan, _

_ He found himself feeling rather unusual, _

_ Tungin couldn't stop thinking about the villain. _

_ Later, Tungin was spooked by a bouillon. _

_ He tried to focus on a duel, _

_ But he could never forget the vanillin. _

_ Sola tried to distract him with a guilin. _

_ Said it was time to start thinking about a rule, _

_ Tungin couldn't stop thinking about the villain. _

_ Tungin took action like a spillain. _

_ The villain was becoming too fool, _

_ But he could never forget the vanillin. _

_ Tungin nosedived like a bleeding quillin, _

_ His mind became dangerously dual. _

_ Tungin couldn't stop thinking about the villain, _

_ But he could never forget the vanillin.” _

**   
  
**

Our teacher waves, a slicing signal to stop that’s completely unnecessary. She just had Eva read the entire thing.

"Does anyone here understand that?"

It's hardly a question. Her frosty tone is more daring anyone to have the gall to not understand the literature she’s going out of her way ** _not _ **to teach. Like 'fucking try me 'cause I will rake your ass over so many coals, you'll be medium rare when I'm done' projecting its way out her mouth.

Who gave this woman a teaching license? And as for her question, no, I certainly didn’t understand that purple prose word salad. Like what the hell even is a vanilian or a milmillan or...wait a moment, I lean closer to the page and squint. D...did whoever write this just only add ‘-in’ to every other word because it started with villain? To no one's surprise, least of all mine, not a hand comes up. Even Eva is silent as she sits back down, none of the spark from the previous class to be seen. Which is why I reach for the sky, Poe’s eyes twitching to me when I do.

"Xom," she grits out, jot tight. Geez, seriously, is there some family feud going on between her and every kid in town that I don't know about? "Rise."

Oh, she wants to play it like this? Fine.

I stand, smoothing out my clothes. "Yes, my lady." I say.

Trying to give my high voice is much mocking gravitas as I can, I remove my hat and bow like George Washington in that HBO special I watched so long ago. John Adams, I think.

She puffs up, indignant and it makes her look even fatter. I quickly answer, my tone that of a country gentleman. "The writer, Prilic, is talking absolute nonsense." 

I smile at the soft chuckles of my classmates, the wound spring of tension undone for the moment.

Too bad my teacher does not have a sense of humor.

"Quiet," her voice cracks like a whip as she glares at everyone before the fury settles on me. "In the hall, Xom. Now." I'm starting to recognize a pattern between my last name and people who don't like me too much.

Though if I'm being fair, the two I've antagonized who say name like this are dicks... Excuse me, a massive dick and a literally bigger cunt.

I give another small bow and stroll out the door looming close behind.

"Wait here." She hisses at me not even looking in my direction as she stalks down the hall and down the stairs.

It's only around them that it hits me that old-time fantasy world might mean old-fashioned corporal punishment.

God, I'm an idiot. I might end up getting my ass beaten by the ruler of caliburn or something like that.

A few minutes later my worry was put aside when I hear Poe’s voice coming up the stairs, huffing from exertion. "Would you slow down?"

“Fine.” A familiar male’s voice grunts, exasperated. “Would it kill you to pick up your feet once in a while?”

“Just-_ wheeze- _j...just hold on.”

The closer steps stop coming but the conversation continues. “So you didn’t go to Vox about this, why?”

“Because that pompous, preening, powder puff never takes me seriously.” Another hard raspy gasp is followed by a hiss from Poe so high pitched she almost sounds like a tea kettle. “I’d sooner have to stove his head in with a brick before he actually considered what I had to say has merit.”

"Well, that 'powder puff' is the vice headmaster and one of the more powerful wizards this side of the capital. Stoving his head in with a brick might not work out for anyone, no matter who they are."

"Oh, don't forget _ privileged _ then."

"Privileged? Really?" The man sounds entirely unimpressed and to be honest, I can't blame him. "For someone so underprivileged, you’re rather broad in the beam."

Oh. Damn. Gonna need skin grafts for that burn.

"How dare you! I don't have to take this from a...a monkey like you!" I barely can keep the chuckle down at the feminine screech of outrage as the steps get closer. However, any further argument that might follow is cut short when I see the orange furred man, still shirtless, stride up the steps with Poe right behind.

Now that I'm taking the time to look at him instead of abandoning a poor boy to the fate of some very irritated adults, I actually notice big and small details. He looks to be in his thirties, younger than Poe but certainly older than Vox.

Like the fact, there's a slight bit of graying at the tips of this fur that adds a slight bit of extra color to the orange. Not to mention that he's fit, his brown skin tight against a very muscular torso which is the only part of them not covered by fur. His ears are pointed like an elfs and his eyes are brilliant gold.

Basically, he looks the opposite of Poe in every way who, by the way is flushed red, her whole bulbous face scarlet though I can't tell if that was from her climb or the guy's comment from before.

He's currently staring at me clearly confused but with recognition, then glances over at Poe.

"This isn't Tawny, I thought you said he was causing trouble?"

"I said a student was disrupting my classroom, Envel." She splutters, her still angry eyes now on me again.

Enval's orange belt uncurls from around his waist and reveals that it's a monkey tail. Like a certain type of character from a show I grew up with.

He gives the woman an incredulous look. "Who else do you complain about in your class? Who else is the most disruptive in the school?"

"Him!" I get a pudgy finger pointed at me like a knife, which is kinda unfair. As far as I knew, I didn’t exist until today and one step out of line does not a troublemaker make. "He undermines me in my own classroom."

Screw it, if I suddenly have taken the title is the most disruptive in the school than I can't get in any more trouble, can I? Let's go full ham on this hag.

"I apologize if my interpretation of the text was improper, ma'am." I start, taking off my hat again and dropping to one knee like a knight before throne. "Forgive this one for his foolishness. The great texts of Prilinc were so astounding to my humble plebeian origins that it seems my total misunderstanding of it has caused you a great deal of distress. A connection is something I would never want to cause to an Augustine lady such as yourself. After all," I pause to swallow before I stutter out a laugh. I only get one chance this. "Your class is as lovely as you."

Enval's lips have started trembling as Poe stairs at me goggle eyed through the short monologue. It's obvious he's trying to hold back and I watch and see the light bulb flick on at my last sentence. Her face goes quite an impressive color of purple and she seems to swell up like a bullfrog ready to burst. Guess she doesn't think her classes are as lovely as her. "Why why you little-"

Her rant is cut off as the man topples into hoots of laughter which sounds spookily like an actual monkey. Think Diddy Kong on laughing gas after his balls dropped. Clutching his sides, he gasps out his next words. "Sounds....heh, He sounds perfectly sorry to me. Ya go and...Haha- I'll take care of this."

Poe looks to him them back to me and backed him them back to me and I see all that righteous indignation deflating out of her. She's lost and she knows it. Waddling her way back to the classroom, I look back and smile at the giddy expressions on the faces of the other kids right before she slams the door. Probably heard all that.

Finally getting control over himself, Enval wipes a tear of his cheek. "I see how you got her goat." Patting me on my on my back, he starts leading me down the stairs as his voice quickly turned stern. "And we can't be havin' that." The effect is ruined by the wide smile still plastered on his face. "Still what did she have ya..." His eyes get wide again. "Wait! Ya said Prilic, right?"

I nod. He laughs again, taking me in the direction of the library. "That hack? No self respecting Sha I knew ever said those ramblings were anything more than bullsh–" He seems to have forgotten I am a child and quickly amends himself. "patties. Anyway my mate and I will get you some that do real quick, and should have your back by lunch."

Okay, well if it's working with books I can't complain.

As we get into the library, Enval brings me over to a spot to the rear left corner of the room that I had missed on my first visit. Sitting there is a simple desk and seated at it is the woman who had been right beside Enval when they’d come down on Tawny like a laser guided hammer. She looks up from a book she has in one hand, the other frozen in mid-page turn. “So what did she-” A glint of recognition flashes in her eyes upon seeing me. She looks ready to say something but Enval beat her to the punch. "Riv, this is...uh," He freezes, looking momentarily lost and it hits me a moment later that I haven't given my name. 

"Caifro." I offer. 

"Caifro." He echoes quickly as if my name had been on the tip of his tongue. "He's the one who got Poe's bun in a twist."

Riv appraises me and I take the time to do the same. Again, there are small little features I didn't notice before. For example, her tired looking appearances and from age but from the bags under her eyes. She actually looks fairly younger than at first glance. If she's older than Enval who I guess is in his 30s, it's not by much.

She also looks big, not as big as Poe but the black outfit she wears gives her more presence than others I've seen. A bit broader in the shoulders while looking fit enough to fill her frame out.

In short, Poe was fat but Riv is stocky.

Her attention is taken off me as Enval starts talking again. "Do you realize what Poe is teaching right now?"

A raised eyebrow is apparently enough a sign to continue.

"Prilic."

That clearly catches her off guard, her mouth drops open and she looks to me again, though this time it's more of confirming what the other man is saying. But when I nod, instead of the clear humor from the monkey man, her features stiffen in frustration and in that moment she looks twice as old. 

"Of all the– I have been running this library for years and collecting books for it from all over the world. And of all texts to waste a student's time on–" she splutters, lost for words as she snapped the book in her hand closed. "No self-respecting Sha would be caught dead with that schlock. Prilic was considered dim even in his day, that Poe was using him as today's 'lesson'..." She makes air quotes with her fingers. "Is disappointingly unsurprising of her. I could teach that class better than such an Unimaginative witch." 

I glance it in ball who's got the look of someone agreeing in spirit but having heard this before.

"So why don't you?"

Riv is brought up short by my question, halted right before she could speed into a deeper rant. Then she looks upset, though luckily not with me. She stares off to the side as she answers. "Poe is good friends with the mayor and I'm... Not." I don't miss the furtive glance she sends Enval nor the visual communication between them. He almost looks... Guilty when he glances down a moment later, rubbing his arm hesitantly.

"Maybe we shouldn't be tellin' the child this."

There's history there, between them and Poe or them and the mayor or all of them. But whatever it is, ain't good. Really not good, cause if I’m catching the undertone right then politics are involved and there’s only three things I know of that makes things nastier between people: Religion. Money. Politics.

"So what do you want me to do?" I asked, changing the subject before the awkward tension gets too thick.

They both brighten and share another look before Enval speaks. "Well, a quick jaunt across town will do for a troublemaker like yerself," he says ‘troublemaker’ in a pretty good imitation of Poe's shrill shrewish voice. "The barmaid at the Guild borrowed a few books couple weeks back an' hasn't brought 'em back yet."

"It's just a few volumes." Riv cuts in, opening a drawer in her desk and pulling out a small piece of parchment and scribbling something down. "She's probably working right now but her quarters are in the Guildhall so it shouldn’t be a chore for her to get them. Think could pick these up?"

What else would I say? It's a simple job and I'm still currently not getting beat with the **'Switch Of Icy Stinging' **or whatever, so it's a win-win for me. On top of everything, I can take a look around town and really dig into my new surroundings. Stroll around, get the books, come back, and I get to avoid Poe's class on top of it?

“Yeah, I can do that.”

XXX

The trip to the Guildhall takes longer than it should.

For the second time today I’m reminded I don’t know where the hell I’m going. No sooner was I striding out the school before that realization hits only to be followed by the fact I can’t go back and ask where it is. I got away with the guard because the situation could’ve been shrugged off as kids being kids or, at least, a child playing dumb. I can’t keep relying on the ‘troublesome’ child card when asking the obvious.

Taking a mental note to find and study a town map later, I more or less meandered in the general direction of the second largest building in town. Watching people go about their business is fascinating. 

Turns out the particular building I guessed was the Guildhall is actually the mayoral residence.

I am turned away by a pair of local guards, one of whom is mustache from this morning who again gives me a look like he’s got no patience to deal with me, directs me to an eastward street. I quickly head off, apologizing as I do.

The Guildhall, while not three stories like the mansion or the school, its size is much longer and wider than tall. Only two stories high but long and wide enough to take up what I suppose is more than half a residential block, it stands out as surprisingly elaborate for a town like Allutanque. 

Where all other buildings including the mansion are rustic, more American-ish colonial mixed with generic fantasy, this red brick building is more attention grabbing now that I'm seeing it from this angle. Looking almost like someone fused several firehouses together and hung a wooden sign of a sword and shield over the main steps for good measure.

Getting to where the entrance is leads me past the giant doors which would have housed the Fire Engines back on Earth. Its when I get the briefest of glances through one pair of huge slightly ajar portcullis-shaped doors. Vague dimly lit rectangular patterns that I guess are massive stables are shown before a noise smashes through the buzz of Allutanque and I jump back twice, the second having me frantically stumble into the middle of the cobbled street. Once from the shock and again from the monstrous clicking screech that sounds like a mix of a tortured blender, a typewriter moving on fast forward, and a car with locked brakes squealing off into the Grand Canyon.

When what I’m hearing registers as _ animal _, not mechanical which takes a second or two, my stomach barrel rolls it’s way into a swirling cold knot.

Ears whining like a piece of glass dragging its way across a chalkboard, I make the decision to be away from whatever the hell made them like that. Knowing my luck, it would probably get loose if I stay around. Just thinking that is enough to get me to double time another wall between my very human body and whatever hellbeast can make a sound like that, however I’m not in such a hurry that I can’t keep my eyes firmly locked on that door just in case.

The ringing in my ears is quickly shifted aside by music coming from the entrance that I only hear when I crack open the front door. It's a jaunty tune played by several instruments, one of which I make out as a flute.

But the music is nothing compared to the wall of scent punching me straight in the nose as I step in.

Tobacco smoke.

Fresh baked bread and sizzling meat.

The slightest undertone of BO mixing with strong alcohol.

I look around and besides the band on a simple stage, the large room is fairly empty. A few people, dressed in robes or armor clearly worth more than anything that town guard is wearing, are seated with drinks and plates of food. Circular tables with wooden chairs are set up in a semicircle around the stage on the furthest end of the building.

Trophies were mounted on the walls with plaques under the heads of several identifiable creatures. Like, I could recognize the head of an absurdly large wolf or moose, but there were some that were completely foreign. One looks like a hybrid between a rhino and a moose, a huge solid rack of a horn planted right in front of where I assume the animal could see with a brown furry pelt. From the front, it almost looks like armored helm was made out of tusks and then fused to the animal’s snout.

My visual grazing is interrupted by a man who nearly knocked me over. His gruff “Move it,” my only warning before his considerably larger and fatter mass shoves into me as he goes for the exit. I stumble, recovering enough not to fall and whip around just in time to see the man looking over his shoulder at me, his flushed shovel flat face wrinkling into a glare. Not only did he do it on purpose but now he’s daring me to say something. I’m about to but I don’t get the chance, the moment passes faster than I expect. He snorts quick wet sniff through his bulbous nose, a mocking smirk curving fat lips as he leaves. I know I’m not imagining the ‘That’s what I thought’ as the door shuts.

What is it with me and getting the attention of the towns assholes?

My momentary outrage his cut short by a cough that rumbles through the music like thunder through wind and turning to the source, I make eye contact with someone who could play the role of She-Hulk in a barmaid outfit looming from behind a finely crafted bar.

Tall and green from her dark curly hair to her candy lime colored skin, she stands behind the bar in front of me, her unique appearance standing out against the white blouse and brown apron she wears.

I noticed the tusks in the corners of her mouth as I approach. An orc. An orc woman!

Wow. She easily could be described as burly and is staring at me like I'm causing her money with every second I stand here.

She is rather plain but far from ugly but she also has arms that could probably suplex a boulder, so it’s a good bet noone dares say that to her face. “To what will you are a in need of?”

Her voice is low and growly but obviously feminie. Those facts are moot though due to the face I have no idea what she said.. “What?” I squeak out and why am I squeaking? 

She bares her VERY sharp teeth at me and it’s just as intimidating as her size. I will figure out later that she was _ smiling. _ “Correct, to what will you are in need of, kid? You aren't old enough to drunk?”

I approach the bar, really taking my time to chew through that. “I guess...I’m here to pick up some books from,” I pause, checking the piece of paper. “To get some books from A-Agash Tul-nack?” I’m stumble over the name for just a moment but I think I recover well enough.

She frowns, lifting a huge hand and rubbing her chin, gaze fixed on me in what I hope is thought. "To what books will you are a wanting? I myself've keep a lot of scripture." Her look of contemplation grows then she turns to a door along the wall of liquor behind her and bellows so loudly the bottles rattle. "Senri!"

I jump but no one else in the bar is even phased, the band literally doesn't skip a beat and continues playing. It doesn’t help I’m still trying to catch up on what she’s saying. When it clicks, I get right up to the bar and continue the best I can. “Just the books from the school. You still have...them…right?”

Under the music, make out the rhythmic thumping of someone, something, heavy coming from that backdoor. It creaks open and the biggest man I've ever seen ponderously steps out.

A head taller than the orc barmaid and made even bigger by the steer horns sticking out from each side of his head, he gives the orc lady impatient green eyed glare. His stained shirt and apron comically tight over his massive chest, he lumbers over to the unimpressed looking orc lady who is only just a hair shorter than him. "What is it, Agash? You know I'm prepping for the rush tonight!" As if to make his point, he wags the biggest rolling pin I've ever seen at her like a weapon, flour dust drifting off it. "You're not going to be the one dealing with all the complaints if we’re short on bread.”

Agash points of thumb at me that looks like it could press nails through mahogany. "Keep to have one thing originate my room, watched that guy while myself'm upon this."

Senri leans to look over her shoulder and down at me and Jesus, he’s huge. Like if Xom's father ever stepped out that painting, he probably would be about this guy's size. With a sigh that has his matted red hair fall in front of his eyes, he steps aside for the barmaid. "Fine but make it quick. I've got more than a dozen loaves that have less than ten minutes before they're done. That bread burns, you get to eat it."

That must've meant something since she quick steps away from behind the counter and up a set of stairs built into the wall next to the bar. I watch her pass a series of doors until she disappears into a hall further along the upstairs balcony.

"Take a seat, kid." The cow-man, I guess, gestures to a stool in front of him. "Might as well take a load off."

I sit and even with the boost I'm forced to crane my head back and look up at his face. One would think that a man this big in a fantasy world would have a massive scraggly beard, scarred face, and the usual things that came with the description of 'grizzled.'

Nope. He’s quite handsome.

Senri pulls a cloth out of his apron and starts to, honest to god, polishing the mugs lined up on the bar. "Whatcha you doing here, kid? Not here for the trials, are you? Or maybe you’re here to invest in the Guild?"

The way he says it makes it clear he is joking And I'm about to shake my head but 'invest' kinda stands out to me. "What do you mean invest?"

Senri tilts his head at me as if not sure if I'm joking or not but decides to explain anyway. "Well, I'm not sure how it works, not totally. I work the kitchens, mind you and members aren't allowed to put money down on anything larger than a bet but... Regular people outside the Guild can drop a few coins on certain missions on that board over there." He points at a part of the wall right next to the door I entered. A huge almost floor-to-ceiling blackboard was there with dozens and dozens of boxes sectioning off writings and what look like random checkmarks, circles and Xs.

The bull man goes into detail. The whole board is full of missions of various different kinds, ranging from hunting a specific wild creature to simple gathering jobs which are sent weekly directly from both the capital and local area by the Guildlord or Guildlady. When the head gets their weekly bounty offers the missions are written in the boxes, ranked in danger by where they sit on said board.

The higher you go, the more dangerous a mission is and the higher the payout is for those who put money into it. Basically, low risk, low reward versus high risk, high reward. The only time when you can't buy in is when the mission is in progress which is marked with an X. The finished ones are marked with checks. The ones which have been chosen but haven't started are marked with a circle.

"Why is that?" I ask as he turns away, putting the final shine on another mug before putting it under a tap. "Not being able to invest after, I mean."

"Because at that point, the money is useless to the ones that need it." With a quick twist, he pours a white foamy liquid till it's almost to the top. I don't know what it is but can tell it's sweet from where I am. "The Guild uses investor's money to buy extra equipment for the mission they are investing in. Potions, better equipment, enchantments, usual things. Otherwise, the group or person that takes the job has to pay out of pocket."

"But wouldn't they already have the stuff they need?"

  
  


"That's a common misunderstanding. Only the very highest ranked adventurers and adventuring groups have the stuff they need to just simply go out on a dangerous mission the moment they take it. Especially if it's to hunt down some creature. Parties that don't prepare, don't usually come back." A strong whiff of vanilla bean ice cream shoving aside all other smells like a bouncer through a crowded club to beeline right into my nostrils. It's almost overwhelming when he sets it down in front of me, with a chuckle that's nowhere near as thunderous as Agash's shout. "Anyway, you can easily double or triple your coin if things go right."

I inspect the drink for a moment and in spite of my sweet tooth itching to be sated take a small sip. "So who would I talk to if I wanted to try it?"

"If you wanna invest in the stuff that's still open, you've gotta talk with whoever is manning the desk which normally is Numa, right over there."

The board is nailed to the wall behind a desk that I'm just noticing is occupied by another person with animal traits – yellow black spotted ears – who's currently scribbling something down with the quill with such focused intensity that I doubt he's listening to the music while working or that he noticed me enter.

He's young with blonde hair and green eyes a few shades darker than my own. Yet in spite of this, there is a hard edge to him that I can't help but notice. His features are a bit sharper, his whole demeanor much more mature and frame gaunt. An even more powerful stand out is the massive scar on his right cheek that reaches from nearly under his eye to just short of his chin.

"What's with the..." I motion to my throat, pointing out the metal collar around Numa's neck without pointing at the guy himself. For the first time, Senri's expression darkens into a grim frown. Though it's not aimed for me, I feel like I have made a mistake in asking. "Better you don't ask, just know that not everyone who is part of the Guild comes from happy circumstance."

Again, like with Enval and Riv, I get the obvious hint there's history here and I want to know this one even less.

And again, just like before, instead of struggling to find a way to recover the conversation I am saved by timely arrival, Agash.

I don't even notice her until she slams a stack of books down near my elbow, causing both Senri and I jump. "Here." She says looking from me to the bull-man then sticking a thumb over her shoulder at the kitchen. "You are able to went with backward to cooking."

Senri brightens into a smile as heads through the door. It's noticeably less than it had been.

Not wanting to put my foot in my mouth any further, I stay silent and check each book against my list. They are all there. I put them away in the bag Riv gave me. With a nod of thanks to the orc woman, who gives me another chilling baring of teeth – smile – I hop off the stool and make for the exit.

I barely get two steps when the door swings open and I’m rooted to the spot.

Golden eyes, milk chocolate skin, and an odd tiny hat perched on shoulder length hair are the only details my tratorus wandering gaze catch before the pair of breasts near to bursting out her one piece swimsuit-looking outfit hooks my eyes. Damn thing looks so skintight, there’s no way it wasn’t spray painted on. The one piece costume flows along the curves so closely, I can see the shape of her belly button. 

I’ve not been on this world long but even I know clothes just don’t work like that. I have no idea what to call it but the ‘jacket’ she has on over it looks almost military...if stripping became a necessary branch of the armed forces. It cuts off before the elbow, gold braided epaulettes on each shoulder glittering in the lamplight of the bar.

The back of it fluttering like a cape, the rest only serves as a literal reverse V-neck, making a literal boob window for anyone to focus on. And if someone didn't look at that, their eyes would be drawn to her long legs. Silky smooth thighs paired with wide hips are exposed for all to see. The only thing I could even loosely call pants on her are black boots tied with a bow just a little above-the-knees. Every precise step she takes makes an audible **click** against the wood floor and is as captivating as. Her fit buxom figure, swaying hips, and tight ass grabs at the primal parts of my mind and directs them to the surface. If I were in a cartoon, this would be the moment that hearts would be popping out of my eyes, my tongue hanging out while I pant, followed by a wolf whistle.

Instead, face burning, I look away, spin around to get back to class and –

** _Clap!_ **

"Ouch!"

I bounce off something firm, warm, and smooth hard enough that I fall flat on my butt. Moving to get back up, lift my gaze, and freeze before I can pick myself up off the floor, the apology strangling itself to death in my now tight throat.

The person I ran into is dressed exactly like the other woman only with the entire ensemble pallet swapped. Framed in the open doorway and turned around, she had been clearly in mid-backstep when I tumbled into her. I don’t know if she was looking at something or someone or where her attention was until this moment.

Honestly, I didn’t care. In fact, the inviting voluptuous view before me could stay for as long as it wanted. I’m not an ass man but this perfect rear damn near changes my thoughts on the matter. 

I’m gazing upon a rear that could stop a runaway train. An extra honky-tonk badonkadonk. Plenty more than two handfuls of very pillowy buns. The sight alone nearly converts me on the spot. Any lesser man would become an apostle of this ass. A prophet of the posterior. A brother in the behind. I shall always be a craver of cleavage but...

Then the sound I just heard registers...did...did I literally run into someone so dummy thicc that their cheeks clapped?

I genuinely thought that was only a twitter meme.

It's only when she spins around, her lilac ponytail whipping and murder in her ruby red eyes that my survival instinct focuses on the sword suddenly in her white gloved grip, the steel whipping through the air. Speaking of anime tropes, I hope this doesn't play out the whole thing. I really don’t wanna get cut today.

Her narrow gaze widens into shock when she sees me. "Oh, sorry," the elf manages, her blade flashing its way back into the scabbard strapped along her creamy thighs. "Thought you were...uh, nevermind. Let's get you up." She reaches out to me and I have to remember how my fingers work. “Sorry about that I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

_ Hey, that’s my line _, I want to say but my mouth is glued shut it seems.

Her grip is tight, surprisingly so and she pulls me up with ease. Face flushed, she lowers her head apologetically and then hurries off to catch up with her friend. I watch them both stroll over to the table nearest to the stage, where three others are seated. The shortest of them in a huge black pointed hat, and I do mean short since I’m probably taller than whoever it is, stands on the chair. In fact, the other two, an elfin man with short purple hair who looks like the masculine opposite of Vox and an Orc-ish chocolate brown man who is taller than all the others though shorter than Senri, get to their feet and after a few moments of talking, they exit a back hallway on the right side of the stage. I watch the two of them go, stretching their arms in similar circular motions, plump rears flexing curved tight musculature all the way.

It hits me then, like a punch to the gut and I need to brace against a wall and take some deep breaths to calm down my racing heart. I...that was-

Overwhelming. Jesus!

I catch a knowing coy smirk from Agash in the corner of my eye, no doubt she get the full on comedy show of my very blatant ogling. leave with as much dignity as my burning face will allow. The band, who I now consider the most professional I’ve ever seen, STILL don’t seem to skip a note.

I quickly decided to take a different way when leaving the Guildhall. My errand has probably taken longer than it needed to and I don’t want the one who gave me such a simple task to think I can’t take the responsibility. There’s a street to north I noticed that appeared to take me straight back to the school grounds instead of the random wandering I was doing in the plaza earlier. 

The first of many whoops and whistles further down along the Guild building catches my attention as I walk. Following the noise, I see some people gathering in the opposite direction. Then I catch the first hints of some sounds other than the music through the walls: clashing metal. 

If I had a watch, I would've checked it by now. I don't know how long I've been gone but since my errand is technically done, maybe I could spend a few more minutes looking to see what it was all about?

Another clang, more cheering. I make up my mind.

I make my way over and find a ground of teenage boys along a wooden fence. I'm actually surprised I recognize one of them. Safir, decked out in what I have to guess is the armor breastplate he tripped over this morning, stands in the middle of the small audience watching...those swordswomen.

The area here behind the Guild house is a bare training ground of some sort with dummies and targets and all other sorts of things for someone to practice their combat. However, the women are not using any of it. The three of their group that I notice earlier are watching the proceedings as well, though a lot less enthusiastically. The elf is laying on his side, head propped up on a fist, mouth wide in a yawn. The brown orc is using a stone to sharpen the edge of his ax. The tiny cloaked person is fiddling around with something inside a bag as large as they are. All of them look like they've seen this before.

I haven't and that's why my jaw drops in amazement at what I'm witnessing. The speed in which the elf woman had armed herself was just a hint compared to now.

Their swords are blur, their arms moving faster than I can track as they go at each other like they're trying to kill. Every step carries them into different positions with precise and solid ground as if they are not wearing high heels, slashing, lunging, stabbing, and cutting at each other and yet for each blinding attack there is an equally blinding counter. Their eyes unwavering from their flashing movements, they skip around slashes and thrusts, all the more impressive considering their footwear.

Hell, they're not even doing any traditional fencing. They move around their invisible arena like dancers dominating the floor. A lunge could carry one of them several feet past their dodging target or their blades lock and one is forced to move the other in a sidestep keep from being put at a disadvantage.

Before long, they are both sweating. In a moment when the battle pauses, I can actually see the drops beading on skin and rolling down along curves of exposed skin. Inviting and oh so, enticing. Parries turning to figure 8 flourishes, blurring the line between what might be showmanship and what certainly is swordsmanship.

At one point, the chocolate skin beauty pivots around the elf's lunge, sending her arm flicking out for a thrust and I'm certain she's about to impale her teammate.

The elf does a half turn of her own, arm snapping above her head and whipping her sword to point down along her back. It's an intensely provocative post, her chest and the rack attached to it puff out right towards the audience.

I doubt they even notice the blades skittering off each other. I barely do, the tingling in my crotch is only the second most important thing on my mind right...now?

Without thinking, I press my thighs together, more than a little surprised. Arousal? In this body? I’m supposed to be like twelve, right? A muscular reflection in my bedroom mirror flashes across my mind. Maybe not. A particularly loud cheer comes from the guys. I don’t join, a growing paranoia and discomfort falling over me like a heavy blanket.

Suddenly, Safir wanting into the Guild makes a lot more sense. Hot women and hot-blooded action, what could attract a guy his age better? Or attract me? That’s something to think about later. The erection, not the women...Well, maybe them as well.

I decide to leave before I get pulled in by the show again, my gait slightly uneven as I try to work out the pressure without having to dive into my pants to give things a shuffle.

I make it back to the crossroad when the cheering starts up again and I hear the steel playing against steel. Before I go any further though, I see Tia Xom coming down the north Street with a full basket in one arm and an expression like an incoming thunderhead on her face. I don't think she sees me and errand or not, I'm not getting caught up in Safir's mess. I wonder if I’m supposed to feel some sort of brotherly obligation to go back and warn him. 

I speed up into a jog.

Big Bro made his choice and I’ve got no reason to die on _ his _hill. Besides, I still don’t know if ‘Stinging Boots of Asskicking’ is a thing around here and I don’t intend to find out now.

The only hitch in my plan to avoid trouble is the appearance of Crud. I'd actually forgotten about the bully in all the excitement and the boy in question decides now is the time to remind me.

**SMACK!**

The impact to the back of my head is hard, wet, and sticky and knocks my hat clean off my head. The laughter that follows is harsh and familiar. Coming from one of the narrow spaces in between the one of the buildings I just pass is Crud. He's minus his 'Chums' but that hardly matters right now.

What does matter is the quick and stomach turning realization that what he nailed me with is, One, starting to dribble – cold and slimy – down into my collar. And two, doesn't smell **anything** like mud.

A tiny gag roles through me as I stand as still as possible to keep any more of... What I know this is from getting any deeper in my clothes. The initial disgust gives way to a boiling seething anger.

I swing to face the ugly little half pint fucker with the intent of a soldier bringing a cannon around. Managing not to gag again when I feel chunks of...ugh, get to the base of my neck, I'm speaking before have time to think.

"Does your mother not love you enough or were you just hatched out of shit, Crud? Makes sense why you would play with it."

I must’ve struck a nerve because he goes pale, his laughter cuts off as he sways back like the words actually struck him across the face.

As the color drains, I make out a white-pink line under his messy bangs, crossing his brow. He must've cut his forehead at some point because the scar is a straight line or as straight as it could be with the scowl warping it.

His fists clench and unclench, his teeth bared in a snarl more intense than the one this morning. He really looks like he wants to beat my ass now. Good, I want to pound this little brat face into the dirt, better it make the most of it while he's on his feet.

"Boys, move along. That means you too, Crud."

The interruption comes from a guardsman that neither of us saw coming down the road, our standoff had been so focused. I give the man a stiff nod and carefully walk away, making sure that my glare tells Crud that we're not done with this.

While the librarians are pleased to get the books back, Riv's wrinkled nose and Enval's attempts to hide his coughing makes it clear that hang around in the school library is not advisable. Hey, at least I’m not walking funny anymore.

Apparently, they have the authority to excuse me for the rest of the day because that's what they do. "Go get your things and get on home, lad." The monkey-man mumbles in a tight voice.

I don't argue. I'm saved any further embarrassment luckily. It's lunchtime so all of the other students are outside in the school courtyard playing.

So it catches me off guard when I enter the classroom and see Tawny. I suspect he'd have heard me coming up the stairs but he's clearly quite absorbed in...

What is he doing? 

Back almost completely to the door, he's hunched among the desks as if prowling around for something. Green ears flat and eyes closed, he presses a bag against his face like he wants to become one with the leather. That was weird enough but fox-boy is breathing in through his nose so hard and deep, I'm certain I would've heard it had the class been full. In the silence now, it sounds like the loudest thing in the building.

His eyes open, half lidded and glassy before bulging big as dinner plates when he sees me standing there staring at him. He jumps, scurrying to face me and looking both guilty and cornered. It's when it's facing me that I recognize the bag in his green furry grip.

"What are you doing with my-" is about as far as I get before Tawny whirls, springs for the open windows at the back of the class, and hurls himself out like the building was on fire. I stand there, mouth open, arm raised. All thoughts of the stench of shit on my back and the fact I can feel it drying or going home scratching off my mind like a record needle.

When what I just saw finally sinks in – a classmate swan diving himself out a second story window with no hesitation – I'm already numbly running for the windows. Don't know from cursing or not, more likely I'm just mumbling nonsense since I just saw someone jump off the second damn floor..

I look out fully expecting to see a body on the ground. What meets my eyes instead is grass and dirt in the cobbled path along the side of the school. I see a streak of green a little higher than where I'm looking and I'm again dumbfounded, watching Tawny running over the rooftop of an adjacent one story building, a house or somesuch, like it's nothing. Then with a jump, he's gone.

Okay...

Well, at least he left my bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took along enough, want to get these chapters out faster. I hope ya'll enjoy. Please leave reviews, they sustain me. Also, the swords women look like this: https://twitter.com/bio_xom/status/1223297835363254272 (Credit to the artist.)


	4. An Official Announcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An explanation for the hold...

Okay...I know I’m VERY long overdue for an update and I know I’m probably going upset some people with false hope by putting this up here. However...I will be continuing this story. The most major issue for the moment is how little I planned. I found continuing this story much MUCH harder because I had a growing messy web of ideas that were poorly held together. Overall the frustration became such that I nearly gave up writing this for the sake of other ideas I had. However, I realized with as much of the world I wanted to write and put down here that I was going to have to step back and organize the whole thing.

That organization showed me that I was up shit creek without a paddle.

Guys, I had 49.7 MB of data dealing with this story spread out through like 5 files, 20 documents, and some google drive docs. All with pieces of different sections of the story, different ideas, plot details, side characters, lore, places… I was a fucking mess. So while I was stepping back to re-organize myself and this monster of a story, I started splitting my attention to other concepts more developed and better organized to write and will be posting them here or on other sites.

I will be doing a massive hard reset of this story as well as a better world lore guide while I’m at it. I don’t know how long it will take but I promise I will have something of great quality for the support this story has gotten.

Thanks for your patience.

-XomBio

**Author's Note:**

> Hammered out the first chapter, nothing too lewd yet. Now let's see how the rest goes. Leave reviews or questions. It helps more than you know.


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